Surrender to Hope
by Macx
Summary: First Class timeline. It was a dark and stormy night. No, really. It was. And things go downhill from there. Canon!AU. For one reality the beach ended differently. In another things played out so wrong. CharlesxErik
1. Chapter 1

This fic was launched by watching the movie twice in a very short time while on vacation in Canada – with no computer! I actually handwrote twenty pages because I became obsessed. In a good way. A very good way ;)

We all know how their futures turned out to be, but what if something, a tiny, tiny moment, had been different?

And since I didn't want to make it a complete AU, this story developed.

I know next to no X-Men comics, so this is solely based on the movie First Class, my interpretation of things, and what I did with the characters is hopefully not too bad.

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The change in the weather had come suddenly, rather abruptly, and many had been surprised, despite weather forecasts and thunderstorm warnings. Heavy rain soaked the landscape, had people flee into their homes or stay at work longer than they normally did. Air traffic was suffering under the poor visibility, the sudden gusts of wind, and the lightning strikes.

For the students at the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York, outdoor activities had been cancelled. Many had retreated to their rooms to study, listen to music, read, or watch TV. Some had gone down into the training facilities. The teachers were chaperoning those activities with watchful eyes.

The huge mansion was surrounded by an expansive forest, which was currently a mud bath that included low hanging clouds that could be called fog. Visibility was poor. The bad weather front had the area in its grasp.

Dr. Hank McCoy didn't care about the weather one way or the other. Down in his lab, surrounded by machines that most people would call futuristic, he worked on one of his many projects. The students knew not to disturb him and even if one forgot, the lab was secured and a bright red lamp warned them of dangerous experiments in progress. Hank didn't take any chances. His mutation allowed him to move much faster than most kids and he knew what his experiments were about and what they could do. The kids didn't.

He almost smiled.

Some might call him nothing but a kid, too, but he had grown up fast and hard. Not much older than many, he was still called 'Dr. McCoy', not 'Hank', and was given respectful looks.

When the alarm went off, a soft bing-bing noise, he looked up with a frown. It wasn't the screeching of imminent explosions, just a warning. Hank walked over to the shelf where he kept his prototypes and frowned when he took one particular down. Huge, blue-furred hands handled the delicate looking device with care and dexterity. He had created the device, but it had never been tested, mainly because what it should read had yet to occur. The design had been based on theories, on wild speculations, and it had been more of a way to pass some time, to tinker and create, than to actually try to…

For it to react now - Hank checked the read-outs once more, then called the Professor.

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It was raining.

Coming down in sheets, saturating his clothes, plastering his hair to his head. It was a cold rain that immediately cooled down his body and had him shiver. Water mixed with the blood running liberally from the head wound. Cradling his left arm he stumbled through the wooden area, feet squelching in the mud. He finally made it into an open area and leaned against a tree, blinking watery blood out of his eyes. More blood dripped from deep slash wounds on his hand and arm.

Before him stood a mansion, lit up, a bright beacon in the night.

He blinked again.

He knew that place. He was intimately familiar with it and the grounds it stood on.

But how…?

His concussed brain tried to find a logical explanation, but all he felt was pain and confusion and the ever-spreading cold. He was exhausted and close to a collapse.

The last thought before something heavy slammed into his side was 'Oh, fuck!', then there was only blackness.

Rain and mud washed over the prone man, squelched under the feet of those coming closer. He didn't see or hear anything at all anymore.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Charles Xavier looked at the man who lay on the examination table, dripping water from dark hair that was plastered to his skull. Blood mixed with mud obscured most of the features, but not enough that he didn't immediately recognize him.

No, not him.

It couldn't be him.

Hank walked over to his patient, running scans, grunting to himself. He looked both puzzled and excited.

Charles reached out with his mind and encountered something akin to a slippery block of ice. He had tried reading the unconscious man's mind the moment he had been brought in. An automatic reaction triggered by the sight of someone who looked exactly like Erik Lensherr, a man who only called himself Magneto now.

But this man… No, it couldn't be. A lot spoke against it, starting with the fact that Hank claimed that an inter-dimensional rift had opened and this man was a visitor from a parallel world. Hank was adamant about it. Xavier tended toward believing him. Because even if the gizmo was wrong, more facts didn't fit.

This man looked younger than the Magneto he knew. He looked about the age of Erik when they had last seen each other as friends, when Charles had lain in the sands of the beach, suddenly aware that the bullet Erik had deflected and that had hit him had left him paralyzed. This Erik also wasn't wearing the helmet Magneto used to hide from Charles. He was clothed rather mundanely in black pants and a black sweater. None of his mutants had been sighted anywhere near. They would never allow their leader to be captured alone. And why would he come to Westchester anyway? And who had wounded him this badly?

Xavier watched as Hank cleaned the man, removed the clothes that were nothing but rags anyway, examining the labels and grunting again. Underneath the wet and dirty clothing was a well-trained, lithe body with scars that showed his past. Some were old and Charles had seen them on Magneto, Erik, when he had stripped off his wet clothes the first time they had met. Others were new.

Hank removed something out of a pocket, eyes growing wide.

"Professor…"

In his open palm lay a deformed bullet.

Charles froze and for a moment he felt a phantom pain in his back where years ago a similar bullet had taken part of his life and destroyed a friendship. He reached out and took the tiny metal object, very much aware of what it was. He had the same bullet, deformed and cleaned of his blood, in his study. Locked away. A reminder of a moment in his life when everything had changed.

This Erik was carrying it with him.

Why?

Behind Hank, on a large screen, read-outs continued. The examination table was equipped with pressure points and sensors that picked up heartbeat, breathing, pulse and even analyzed brain waves. It was nothing you could find in any hospital anywhere. Just looking at the low readings told a watcher everything about the new-arrival.

A new-arrival who was in a bad, bad shape.

Looking into the sharply defined face, Charles wondered, if the parallel dimension theory was true, whether this man had become Magneto as well or if had chosen another path. He tried touching his mind once more, but again he wasn't able to get a grasp. It was as if the parallel Erik's brain was out of alignment, as if it existed on a different plane that Charles was unable to step onto.

Curious.

And it only undermined Hank's theory of a dimensional rift.

A soft groan came from the pale lips and suddenly gray eyes blinked open. The same pale color as Magneto's, but filled with clouded confusion. Pain reflected immediately and they were screwed shut once more. Erik rolled onto one side, protectively around his injured arm that Hank had just bandaged, breathing harder. Tension built up in the lithe body and tremors raced through him.

Charles held up a hand as Hank wanted to come closer.

"Professor…"

At the sound, the eyes snapped open again and fixed on McCoy. Their visitor froze for a second, then sat up so abruptly, Charles was afraid he would fall over. For a brief second Erik seemed to just want to do that, his face twisting with agony, a barely audible moan escaping him, then the control was back and the cold features were a sharp reflection of the man Xavier had met years ago. A man he had wanted to call a brother and a friend. Someone he had lost to his demons, his anger and pain.

Despite being in no shape at all, the danger this Erik radiated was as palpable as it had been in Magneto the first time they had met. This was a mutant who was very well aware of what kind of a deadly weapon he was. Erik Lensherr had ruthlessly killed those who had tortured and killed his parents, his people, and who had unleashed his potential through suffering and a pain so deep, Charles had been struck speechless the first time he had seen and felt it.

One finger twitched and Xavier saw a tool on Hank's desk rise slightly. If he hadn't known about Erik's power, he wouldn't have seen the movement. But he did and he knew things were starting to get dangerous.

"Who are you?" Erik demanded, voice cold, controlled. He didn't seem to mind that he was almost completely naked.

"My name is Dr. Hank McCoy," Hank replied cautiously.

"Liar."

Xavier frowned. That was unexpected. Of course it confirmed that Hank McCoy existed in this man's world, but it also threw up a few more questions. Had he existed and perished? Did he exist, but not in the form he did here? He would have loved to know the history of the other dimension before confronting this man.

Hank glanced at Xavier.

Erik did, too. And froze.

His eyes widened, then a harsh line settled around them. It spoke of his bad condition that he hadn't been aware of Charles before.

"Who the fuck are you?" he repeated, slipping off the table.

Silent alarms went off as the sensors no longer registered anything and interpreted it as a medical crisis. Holding himself upright with his right hand. Erik forcefully locked his knees, body so taut, Charles was afraid he would snap something. Only willpower was holding him upright right now; and he had a lot of that. He had been trained to endure pain, go without sleep, or sleep when he had to. He had been turned into a perfect weapon, a human weapon, and he could strike even when his body was shutting down.

"I think you know who I am," Xavier replied, taking a gamble on the recognition he had seen flash through those eyes. "Charles Xavier."

The sharp features hardened, the lines deepened. "Liar. You might have taken his form, and that of Hank, but you're not them. Who are you? What kind of sick game is this?"

Close by, another scalpel twitched. Hank looked alarmed, but Charles told him 'no' through a quick telepathic touch.

"Professor…"

::No. Wait. Just a moment::

He was gambling and if all went to hell, it would end deadly, he knew, but if this man wasn't Magneto and if they could get through to him…

"Stop playing games," Erik snarled. "Are you in my head? Is this a projection?"

"I'm real, Erik."

It got him a cruel smile. "Right. I hate to tell you, but you got Charles wrong." He cradled his injured hand, leaning more against the table. "Probably took the wrong memory? Not so good at it." It was mocking, provocative, and Charles noticed how a lot more metal instruments now reacted to the rising power.

With the degree of injuries and the concussion Hank had predicted, this was taking a lot out of the other mutant.

"Wrong how?"

"Charles Xavier isn't wheelchair bound," Erik went on, gray eyes gleaming with mockery. "Too bad you can't keep reality from nightmares apart, buddy. So whoever you are, drop the act!"

Charles froze. His breath lodged in his lungs. The words replayed over and over, and he wasn't even aware of Hank moving closer. The scientist was stopped by a sharp scalpel hovering not far away.

"One more step and we'll find out if projections can bleed," Erik hissed. "Now drop the act!"

"It is no act. In this world," Charles heard himself answer, "I am in this chair."

The taller man froze. "This world?" he repeated.

"You were trapped in what appears to be an inter-dimensional rift. It opened up approximately five-point-two hours ago and you were found by two of our students. I believe that whatever caused your injuries was also responsible for this displacement?" Hank spoke up, voice measured and careful. Yellow eyes held confused gray ones.

It seemed to sink in quicker than Xavier would have anticipated. It also confirmed that the inter-dimensional rift was a possibility this man had been confronted with before.

"Cracks," Erik said weakly. "Rifts. I'll skin that kid!"

The scalpel trembled, then lowered a little.

"Fuck!"

He started to sway.

"Little bastard!"

Charles had no idea who he was talking about, but now the theory was no longer a theory. It was a well-cemented fact that something had pushed this man through a portal and he was aware of it.

Before either Hank or Charles could react, Erik suddenly doubled over with a pained cry. The metal objects that had been poised defensively clattered to the ground or suddenly stilled on the tables. The cry transformed into a scream of agony and Erik fell to his knees. His shape seemed to suddenly blur, like a bad TV reception, and went in and out of focus. The agony in the narrow face was palpable.

"Hank!"

McCoy had grabbed a scanner and the inter-dimensional rift sensor was screeching.

Then things went abruptly silent.

Erik lay on the ground, unconscious, his wounds bleeding again, and looking solid once more.

And suddenly, Xavier could touch the other mind.

tbc... 


	2. Chapter 2

  
>And suddenly, Xavier could touch the other mind.<p>- <em>"The real enemy is out there. I can feel their guns moving in the water. Targeting us."<em>

_"You said it yourself, Erik. We're the better men."_

_"I've been at the mercy of men who were only following orders. Never again!"_

He closed his fist around the bloody bullet, the tiny metal object biting into his skin. He felt every edge, every fold, ever lethal molecule.

Bile rose in his throat.

Blue eyes, bright with pain, met pale gray ones.

"Stop," Charles requested, voice hoarse and laced with the pain that raced through his body. His face was sweat-streaked, lined with the agony he must be feeling but ignored.

"They won't," he replied evenly. Anger and pain and sheer hatred coursed through him.

They had been betrayed.

By the ones they had tried to protect.

He had given them a chance to prove to him that humans could be different, but they weren't. They would kill what might threaten them. Their first strike had been thwarted. His counter-strike had fallen short because of…

Erik stopped.

Because of Charles.

A tired smile tugged at the telepath's lips. "They will."

"If we give ourselves up. If we go peacefully into incarceration, let them lock us up, use us, experiment…"

The old memories rose, the torture and pain of his 'education', his training at the hands of a madman.

"They're just waiting for us to surrender!" he went on, pushing the memories back.

"We won't surrender," Charles whispered, breathing more labored now. Controlling the pain. Fighting to stay in control.

The others, allies, friends and former enemies, stood all at a respective distance, unsure what to do. Even the only one who could leave by teleportation was frozen in place by the events. Out in the ocean, the combined forces of the Russian and US fleets waited. They were probably celebrating their survival, but Erik felt their metal weapons, knew they had missiles left.

"Trust me, Erik," Charles said softly, looking into the almost feral eyes.

He shuddered. He did. He already did. Like he had never trusted anyone before. This man had, in just a few weeks, gone past all his defenses and accomplished more than Sebastian Shaw had ever managed. He had won the trust of the deadliest weapon ever created, and Erik would follow him, would give him everything. He had given Charles Xavier the benefit of a doubt at the beginning, had stood back and watched, waited for a reason to leave again, but the doubt had turned to respect and then to trust.

Charles squeezed his hand. "Trust me."

"I do," he replied roughly.

The blue eyes became intense, the pain momentarily chased away. "Enough?"

Enough to remove the helmet? Enough to lay his mind into Charles' hands? Enough to face him without any defenses against such a powerful mind?

He raised shaky hands, encountering the smooth, non-metallic structure of the helmet, and then lifted it off his head. Expecting a telepathic strike, felling him; expecting a cool touch that could control him; expecting offense or defense, whatever.

None came.

Charles gazed at him with a smile that spoke of so much and that had Erik tremble.

Trust.

He trusted like he had never trusted anyone before. And probably never would again.

The helmet landed in the sand with a soft thud.

::I'll never betray your trust, Erik:: he heard in his mind.

It had him shiver.

In the real world, his hand was squeezed once more. It was a spasm of pain that told Lensherr just how close his friend was tethering on a complete shut-down, physically as well as mentally.

"I betrayed you," he blurted.

"You did what you had to do."

"You saw it."

"I was there. With Shaw."

Charles' eyes reflected endless pain. He had fucking _felt_ it, Erik realized in horror. He had felt the coin go through Shaw's brain… He had been there, right there.

"Why?" Erik whispered, horrified.

"I can't leave a mind like that, like taking the next door outside. When I'm there… it's intense. I wanted to reach you. I tried to stop you."

"You froze him." Erik stopped. "Why not unfreeze him?"

"It doesn't work like that. It's a command I can't just undo." A tear ran down Charles' cheek. "It was your demon. You had to exorcize it."

Erik bent forward, foreheads almost touching. He had never even thought about it. Charles had paralyzed Shaw, kept him trapped inside a body that was no longer under his control. He had been there, had looked through Shaw's eyes… and he had felt Shaw's pain. He had screamed the scream that Sebastian Shaw had been unable to voice.

"He had to be stopped," he rasped. "I had to end it. I had to _end_ it, Charles!"

"Has it?" ::Can you start living now?::

He closed his eyes, shivering with the gentle contact. There was so much worse Charles could do to him; so much, much worse. But he wasn't. His mind-touch was like a caress, like an embrace. It was almost loving. Now that he listened he could feel the raggedness, the edge. Xavier was fast approaching the limit. Fuck, he had already gone past it!

"Yes." His voice cracked. "Yes."

Charles smiled openly, with relief, then he suddenly groaned and tried to curl up, but it only evoked another moan of pain. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Erik felt a rush of panic, one hand resting on the too quickly moving chest of his friend, the other still curled around his neck to support the head. Charles was starting to pant more harshly as he tried to control the pain.

::Mind over matter only works so much magic:: he heard in a weak attempt at mind-to-mind communication, laced with faint humor and a lot of agony.

Too much had battered at the telepath's shields before his own injuries had forced him to up the ante on his mind, too. He had overdone it, stressed his brain to the limit, and now it was shutting down.

"Charles…"

He touched the tears, horrified by what he had done to his friend. He had hurt him body and mind. The psychic side was already a mess, torn and shattered from feeling Shaw's death, from fighting for such a prolonged time in a way Xavier had never fought before. Now he had been physically injured, too.

::I trust you, Erik.::

How could he? After everything…

::I always trusted you::

His breath caught at the words. Too much. It was too much. The emotions were boiling up, seeking an outlet.

The blue eyes were filled with them, too. And slid shut.

Then Charles' body went limp.—

Xavier blinked, overrun by the very clear and sharp images he was suddenly able to receive. He saw himself, his other self, through Erik's eyes, felt the emotions, the pain and guilt and hope, and he knew things. A summary of events that had happened, but which Erik's mind didn't feature prominently.

Like the fact that Erik had convinced Azazel to get them home. All of them. No betrayal. The red-skinned teleporter had simply nodded, his eyes unreadable, but he had clearly been in shock over what had happened. He had bowed to the power of Erik Lensherr and where Magneto had exercised that power, calling him into service, this Erik had only asked one thing of the teleporter. Shaw's body had been destroyed. Riptide and Azazel had left without further comment when the others had been back, safe and sound and mostly unharmed.

Charles had spent the first night in medical care. Moira MacTaggart had found a way to get him to a hospital, then pulled a whole lot of strings and flashed her CIA badge at everyone who might argue. Their visit was kept a secret. Xavier's name was never on any medical files. For one night Charles had acquiesced to staying, then he had wanted to go home to Westchester.

And he had gone home.

In pain, barely able to walk, sit or stand comfortably, but he had persevered. The bullet had torn a deep path across his lower back, without touching the spine, and had been lodged in the hip bone when Erik had had removed it. The doctors had cleaned the wounds and stitched them, but scarring would remain.

But he could move. For now under a lot of pain and very carefully, but he wasn't paralyzed.

Xavier closed his eyes, feeling tears rise at the very thought that somewhere luck had been on his side. Not here, in this world, but somewhere. He was forever wheelchair-bound and he had accepted it, but knowing that it might have gone differently, just a fraction of an inch to the left or right…

He pushed the emotions away.

But more rose. Different ones. In the other world, Erik had stayed. Despite the blame, despite the rage, despite everything. He had stayed.

tbc... 


	3. Chapter 3

- Everyone was recovering from their wounds, be it psychological or physical. The trauma to the kids had been extensive and they needed time to deal with the events. No one had come away unscathed. In the safety of the mansion, far away from the CIA and other prying eyes. Erik Lensherr had tried to stay out of the others' ways, but he was always pulled back. With Charles down for the count, recovering in his room and unable to move around much, he was the one the younger mutants turned to. As grown-up as they tried to be, they were just children. Powerful children who had survived against impossible odds, had stopped a war, but children nonetheless.

So he helped.

And became involved.

And it helped ease the burden on his own mind.

Until he ran into one very stubborn telepath who was trying to make his way out of his room and down the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?" Erik asked levelly.

The blue eyes, filled with pain and fierce concentration, snapped up and Charles' labored progress halted. A fine sheen of sweat was on the pale forehead. And there was that stubborn line Erik had come to recognize. While Charles had been in telepathic contact with everyone else, he had never touched Erik's mind again after The Beach.

The Beach.

Erik couldn't but capitalize the two words. It had been the pivotal point, the moment his life had been decided. It had been a vulnerable moment, for both of them, all of them, and it could have gone either way. He could have given in to the rage, to the pain deep in his injured soul, but he hadn't. He had surrendered to the most powerful telepath the mutant world knew and he had been an open book. Charles could have done anything and everything, could have knocked him out, frozen him in place, even taken him out for good.

He hadn't.

"And hello to you, too, Erik," was the pleasant reply.

The calmness irked the taller mutant more than he would let on. Not that Charles wouldn't be able to pick it up anyway.

"You shouldn't be up and moving around!" he snarled.

"According to the physical therapist, movement is good. I need to work out my muscles to keep myself mobile. It's a matter of a speedy recovery.."

So much was rampaging through him. So much was firing back at him, all those horrible scenes, every single moment, the bloody bullet, the blood on the sand, on his hands…

"And I came to see you," was the mild addition.

It stopped Erik. "W-what?" Gray eyes narrowed, covering the stutter. "Why?" he demanded.

"You seem to evade me."

"Someone has to keep an eye on your kids."

"They are your kids, too."

_"This is yours?"  
>"No, this is ours."<em>

Spoken a long time ago and still true. Their home, their school, their students.

Damn the man for throwing him curveballs! Erik tried to reign in his emotions.

"You are one of us," Xavier added another blow.

He balled his hands into fists, emotions boiling. He had yet to work through it all, while telling the younger mutants to let it all out, talk to the others, don't hold back. He himself did hold back, despite Raven's one and only attempt to make him talk. He was sure he had terrified her.

He had to apologize soon.

"You're a fucking telepath, Charles! You could have talked to me anytime and anywhere!"

It got him a curious look and some amusement chased away the pain the other man felt. "No, not you. I like talking to you face to face."

He hated curveballs. He hated hated hated them. Xavier was too unpredictable in so many ways, while the idealism and naivety were endearing but annoying additions. But there was something else hidden in those words.

His eyes narrowed and he advanced on the other man.

"You could have talked to me," he repeated.

Charles evaded his sharp gaze.

"Charles?"

"I'm a telepath," the other said unnecessarily.

"I know that."

"Doing what I did… the fighting at the beach, later removing us from so many minds, influencing people on a grand scale... it leaves me with more than a headache. It's… like my mind is raw and open."

Erik hadn't thought of that. He knew how strenuous lifting the sub had been, how it had almost physically hurt, but he hadn't given Charles' massive psychic outpouring another thought.

"So you didn't use your abilities," he stated. "Much."

"In a way."

"Aside from talking to everyone in this house but me."

Charles sighed.

Erik shot him a narrow-eyed look that had sent others running for their lives. "Talk to me, Xavier, before I make you!"

The younger man just gave him a half-smile that unbalanced Erik more than any threat he could have made. He hated Charles. He hated him for it.

"When a telepath overstresses his mind there are two ways to heal: stay away from everyone to get the balance back."

"Or?" Erik prodded, annoyed at how unwillingly Charles was leading where the real information lay.

"Find an anchor."

"Anchor?"

"Another mind that gives me a hold, that lets me take a breath, so to say. I need someone who can counterbalance the weariness, the pain, the rawness."

He froze when those blue eyes bore into him with an intensity that had him shiver.

"You."

"What did you do?" he demanded sharply. "What did you do to me, Xavier? What did you do to my head?"

For a second those blue eyes reflected fear. He had never been able to frighten Charles. Never before. Charles took a step back and almost lost his balance. Erik cursed and grabbed one arm, as carefully as possible getting the injured man back into his room. A wince had Erik tighten his hold. Guilt rose.

"I'll heal," a quiet voice said.

Erik almost snarled at the realization that Xavier was reading him. "Stay out of my head!"

He pushed at the tiny sliver of contact he felt and Charles winced back, surprise reflecting on his features. Erik pushed again, for once the predator overtaking the controlled mind and lashing out. With a kind of dark satisfaction he saw the telepath recoil.

"I'm not actively reading you. I never did," Charles answered, a tremor in his voice. "You project. Loudly."

He reached up and touched his temple, massaging it with shaking fingers. Erik stared at the pain-creased features, then felt almost sick at his actions. Charles was his friend; he was closer than anyone had ever been. And he was hurting him..

::Sorry::, he thought. ::I'm sorry:: He sought for the gentle press of the anchor against his mind and caught it.

Charles stared at him.

Anchoring meant a two-way road. He could strike at the open mind just as easily as he could kill a man with a shard of metal.

"Charles…"

"And what I said is true," the other man told him, evading his eyes and ignoring his whispered plea,

::Charles:: he projected intensely.

Erik knew he was heard, knew that the telepath was still there, unable to withdraw from the one mind he needed to anchor.

"I'll be fine," Xavier went on as if he hadn't heard him. "It's a flesh wound. No permanent damage."

But it easily could have been. Erik knew that. He had deflected those bullets from MacTaggart and one had hit a friend.

Charles suddenly reached out and when the taller man didn't move, gently cupped his face. It was such an intimate gesture, it froze Erik, made him aware of so much.

"I'm fine," Xavier reiterated. "Your guilt can only go so far. You've already been forgiven."

He tried to move away, but if he did, he would leave Charles without a crutch to lean on. He couldn't risk the other man stumbling and falling.

"Why?" Erik managed.

The youngish face studied him, took in the sharp features, the prominent cheek bone, the tiny scar over his lip, the lines around his eyes that hadn't smoothed out. Erik knew that nothing could hide the lack of sleep and the guilt he felt. Not from this man. He knew he looked worse than ever, hair unruly, all the smooth, cool detachment barely maintained. He was coming apart because of The Beach and he hated the calm acceptance, the forgiveness. Charles didn't scream or yell or blame him. He had forgiven him – for nearly killing him.

Why?

For a man who might be the most powerful mutant since Shaw had died, Erik Lensherr felt weak and vulnerable. Lost. Alone.

"You had your reasons for what you did," Charles said, his strong voice penetrating the cloud of memories in Erik's mind. "Very good, very sound reasons. Logical. I had mine. You said I might be naïve, but maybe you were too cold. Maybe you couldn't see what I want to see, and I couldn't understand your fears, despite having seen everything. I never experienced it myself, but I felt your pain, Erik. I truly did. I understand. No one else might ever be that close to understanding."

He shuddered.

"But apart we're unable to work with what we have. With what we can do. We're powerful, Erik. We need each other. I need your cold logic, the warrior, the weapon you are. I need you to stop me from idealizing what might bring us down. And you need me."

He trembled.

_"I want you by my side. We want the same thing."_

"You need me to be your conscience, to reign you in, to bring you back. I'm not your handler, nor are you my weapon. We need each other as a team. You and me. I can forgive you because I know your past, and I know your motivations. We'll be great together, Erik. As equals, As partners and friends. We can compromise between my ideals and your cold realism."

He wet his suddenly dry lips. "You think I'll stay?"

Charles smiled. "You already did." The smile widened at the startled look. "And when you find the courage for the next step, I'll be there."

"W-what?"

"I know you, Erik Magnus Lensherr. You know I do. It's why I believe in us."

_"What do you know about me?"_

_"Everything."_

The need to run was suddenly stronger and Erik stepped back, not enough to upset Charles' balance, but enough to break the intense contact.

Charles waited.

The two so different men looked at each other.

"The hard part is forgiving ourselves for not being smarter or stronger or whatever fault we think we have," Charles said. "That we let this thing happen at all. You think about the million possibilities, the What Ifs, too long, they drive you crazy."

The blue eyes were filled with something Erik didn't want to ponder.

"I need you with me."

That one sentence launched a myriad of emotions and he fought the flood. "As an anchor?"  
>Charles smiled. "No. I apologize for the intrusion, for not asking sooner. I would have, had I been more coherent. At the time I needed you and I couldn't ask. Now I'm asking."<p>

Erik was silent, studying the younger man's face, then smiled slightly. He touched the temple Charles had rubbed earlier, two fingers brushing over soft skin.

"You think you can handle me there?"

The impish grin was back. "You think you can handle _me_?" Charles returned the question.

Erik only laughed.-

Xavier felt the connection weaken and he blinked, rising out of the strong memories. His eyes were drawn to the bullet, Erik's reminder of what he had nearly done. He knew now that he always carried it with him for that one reason.

"His body went… out of alignment," McCoy said, looking at the readings, pulling him further back into his own reality. "It's like this dimension rejected him, trying to shift him back.

He had by now moved his patient back on a table, had covered him with a sheet, and was skillfully ignoring the fact that Xavier had zoned out for a short while.

Charles felt more memories rise, looking at the tanned skin with its bruises and old scars. They were brightly in his mind, teasing him with the difference to what his own life had been like after Cuba. Taunting him with the knowledge that there might have been something to change Magneto's final decision, have Erik stay with them and rebuild their future.

But it hadn't worked out that way.

"I've to look into this, Professor. I can't say anything until I have all the data. Something happened in his world. He mentioned someone and rifts. He knows some of what I need to know to figure this out."

Charles nodded.

"I also have to scan him."

Hank looked slightly uncomfortable at the idea of a mutant with Erik's powers in an environment filled with metal.

"He's not Magneto, Hank."

"I know that, Professor. But you saw his reaction to a perceived threat."

"He knows he's not where he belongs. And where he came from, he isn't our enemy."

Hank frowned. "You read his mind?"

"I caught… glimpses. Strong emotions. Just after the shifting effect. I'm not sure why only then. I was unable to even get a sense of him before, but for that brief moment… it worked."

"Maybe the shift aligned him with our world," Hank mused out loud. "So it lets you see into his memories for a while after the shocks ran through him."

Xavier nodded. "Apparently."

Hank gave him a closer look. "And you saw what?"

"That our paths differed after Cuba. This Erik stayed with us. And my other self was more accepting of what he had done. Where I pushed him away, my parallel self drew him in. Erik is part of this school."

_More_, something inside him whispered. _Much more._

But he hadn't seen the right moment yet.

"Professor…"

He held up a hand. "I can't change what happened, Hank. No one can. We can only try and help this Erik in getting back to a world where myself and him work together."

"Unless I can talk to him, scan him, this will be difficult. I need to know his side of what happened." Hank studied his patient, who was showing signs of coming around, noting in dismay how pale and worn he looked. "This eats at him, the whole shifting. We need to figure it out, Professor."

"And we will."

"If the portal was created artificially, we can't just send him back without creating one of our own. If it was created by a mutant, and it sounded like it, we would have to find this person in our world. If he exists. Maybe he knows a name. Maybe Cerebro might be of help." Hank looked thoughtful. "Our world will try to rid itself of someone who is not supposed to be here, who is an instability, and Erik can't voluntarily go either without the ability to create rifts."

"Well, fuck…" the man in question breathed, trying unsuccessfully to sit up. He fell back with a groan and rolled a little onto his side.

Hank twitched a smile. "An apt description."

The pained gray eyes looked at Charles and Xavier was hard-pressed not to touch the other mind, soothe it. By now he had lost the connection and only the strong memories he had picked up before remained. The pale skin was even more accentuated by the ugly gash running over his forehead and almost down his temple.

The two so different men, from two different realities, held the gaze, Charles wondering what Erik saw. Whatever it was, he didn't appear aggressive anymore. Not docile or relaxed either, just giving them a chance to prove he could place a modicum of trust in them.

"Guess I'll be around a while longer," Erik finally said.

Charles smiled slightly. "I believe you will be."

Hank stepped closer. "May I look at your injuries? I believe the wounds broke open again."

Erik hesitated, then nodded, closing his eyes as McCoy carefully examined him. Now and then the twitch around his lips told of the pain, but otherwise he was close to stoic.

Charles never looked away. He took in the sight of a man he had lost so long ago, who had worked the same goal but with different, more brutal methods, in the past eight years. In the other reality less time had passed and different events had shaped his life.

_Their lives_, part of him reminded him.

Because there was more to them; much more.

tbc... 


	4. Chapter 4

Charles had informed the students that were currently at the manor about their guest. Word had already spread like wild-fire since he had been found by two of them, but he wanted to stop rumors in their tracks. The knowledge that this wasn't Magneto was important, as was the fact that the man who looked like his identical twin was a visitor from a parallel word. Someone who didn't follow Magneto's beliefs, but with the same past.

Someone who a parallel Charles Xavier had compromised with; someone who was still hardened by a life that had nearly killed him, had killed his people, and who would strike out at whatever threatened him.

Charles caught the students' disbelief, curiosity and wariness. Some had had the displeasure of fighting those who followed his former friend, and Magneto was ruthless sometimes. But no open threats were made and the children were prohibited from using the downstairs facilities for now. It was for Erik's protection, as well as their own.

Since school was for now suspended he let Hank send the boys and girls out in teams of two, scanners in hand, to find the exact location where Erik had been pushed into their universe. It gave them something to do.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Erik hadn't been happy about Hank's request to examine him. He had a deep hatred of all things medical and while he had been in medical care numerous times, he had never liked it. At home, his home, his Westchester, he had always fled as quickly as their Hank let him. Charles had given him some breathing space by telling McCoy that their guest should have something to eat first.

Hank had given in, but only after changing the stained bandages on his arm and hand, and suturing the gash on his forehead once more.

Clothes had been arranged from somewhere. Erik doubted it were Charles'. He was slightly taller than the telepath and these fit him almost well enough to be his own. He hadn't asked, just accepted the outfit, which was all in black. He had smirked at Charles, who had only smiled back and had proceeded to lead him into the dining room.

Following the wheelchair-bound man, Erik looked around, curious. Everything looked the same. The hallways, the carpeting, the wooden floors, the paneling on the wall, the paintings…

Well, almost. Small differences could be seen here or there. Pictures he didn't recognize. A color that was off. And the fact that the few kids he met – some he even recognized from home – gave him wide-eyed, slightly frightened looks, with the occasional hate-filled one, told him a story or two about his parallel self.

"Not my biggest fans," he remarked quietly as he finished off a sandwich one-handed.

His other arm was strapped to his body to keep it immobile while it healed. The pain medication helped keep the pain away, but it wouldn't last forever. And with the bruises, he looked definitely like a bad case of roadkill.

Xavier regarded him silently for a second. Then, "No, not really."

"Who am I?"

He valiantly tried to ignore the wheelchair, but it was hard. He found himself staring now and then, and his stare was caught by this older version of a man he knew like no one else. His Charles had never used one after The Beach. He had been adamant about walking on crutches and later with only a cane to help him along. He had healed completely, even though some serious scarring had remained, but he had never been in a chair. Seeing this version wheelchair-bound was… sobering. And it brought back the guilt. In small pieces, but the guilt was there.

Instead of answering, Xavier reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew the misshapen bullet. Erik knew immediately that it was the one he had on his own person wherever he went. He knew the metallic structure by heart. Then a second bullet was taken out of the other pocket. It looked the same. Almost. Slight differences here or there. His mind was aware of a lighter weight, that a fragment was missing. This was the one that had his this Charles Xavier.

"I believe this one belongs to you," the telepath said.

For a moment he hesitated, then used a fraction of his powers to take the bullet back, smoothly sliding it from the outstretched hand into his own, closing his fist around it. The metal bit into his skin and he felt the emotions of long ago rampage through him. His defenses were severely compromised and looking at his worst nightmare come true in another reality hadn't helped either.

"This one," Charles went on, looking at the second bullet, "was given to me by you, the other you that is part of my world. When I was in the hospital. It was the last time we met as… friends."

Erik frowned.

"When you shifted, for lack of a better word," Xavier continued slowly, "I was able to touch your mind for a moment."

Erik stiffened.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but it was the only chance I had to determine your risk factor."

"I understand," he answered coldly.

He was used to Charles' telepathic touch, but never to spy, never to draw information when he was unwilling to give it, never to read his mind without asking.

"Our paths differed throughout Cuba. Erik… Magneto, as he calls himself now… he was driven by rage and pain, just like you. He killed Shaw."

"Like me."

A nod. "But he didn't find peace."

_"Peace was never an option."_

"You think I did?"

"Something close to it."

Erik eyed him cautiously. "Close to it," he echoed.

"Magneto never did and might never do. He calls me idealistic, too. He claims I should wake up and smell the coffee." Charles failed to smile at that. "But his lack of compassion only brings more pain."

Erik was silent, then his eyes fell on the motionless legs again "And he deflected the bullet into your back?" It was barely even a question.

"Not on purpose. It was an accident. Our situations, yours and mine, were the same. Fate decided there was a fork in the road that had to be taken."

Erik briefly closed his eyes. "Because it went into your spine."

"Yes."

"But he removed it."

"The damage was done. Erik asked me to join him. He wanted to blame the human world. I didn't let him. I blamed him. I told him that we are different, that my injury was his fault. That I can't see it his way, that humans are purely a threat, that they want to kill us. I wanted him to stay with me, under my conditions. It's where I made the mistake."

The light gray eyes softened a little as Charles failed to keep the pain out of his voice.

"It wasn't your mistake alone, Charles. I've been there. I remember that moment and I know it could have gone either way. We both made mistakes, but we both decided to sacrifice part of our convictions, our beliefs… Humanity can't accept mutants because they see them as a threat to their lives," Erik told him. "In our world, too. Charles… your parallel self… he opened the same school. He teaches. As do others. How to control the powers, how to handle a life where you're different. He has connections, to the government, the CIA, wherever. They leave us alone most of the time."

"But…?"

Erik smirked. "Those who know about us are an exclusive group."

Charles frowned, not understanding.

"Charles, my Charles, went ahead and wiped their minds. Those who knew. Only a select few were deemed worthy and trusted. I would have wiped them all. Blank slate. No threat any more. Charles is too much into humanity to take the last step."

He blinked. The parallel Charles had wiped all their minds? ALL? He hadn't caught that the first time. Some, yes, but of every single man?

"Came with a price. For a week he had the migraine from hell." Erik looked at his hands. "It passed. And we began from the start. At least we did. There are men and women in our world who have known about mutants for a long, long time. Those who found them, used them, killed them." His eyes grew hard and distant. "Charles wants to help. I guess wherever you go, Charles Xavier is an idealist." Erik smirked. "At least mine understands the fine line we walk. We cooperate, assist, help out, when necessary. But the school isn't there to train warriors. It's to teach the kids how to handle who and what they are, to give them a future, become part of a society that is afraid of them because they're different."

"The mutation replaces the dominant race one day," Charles quoted from his own paper, voice soft.

Erik's smile was dark. "Yes. We will. But evolution takes time. I learned that from Shaw. You can't force evolution. One day humanity will be a society of mutants and then that mutation is normal. Where's the fun living in that time, Charles?" He grinned more.

"I see."

Charles studied him and Erik emptied his glass, feeling more thirsty than he had thought. The sandwich had settled nicely and some color had returned to his face.

"Tell me how you were pushed through a rift."

Erik leaned back, wincing a little. "When you were in my head, what did you see?"

"Only Cuba."

It got him a narrow-eyed look.

"I have no reason to lie, Erik."

"Huh. Well, to sum up a lot of ups and downs: Charles and I came to an agreement how to handle the school and the search-and-rescue operation of mutant kids. Charles took over the whole school stuff and politics, I concentrated on finding the mutants."

Xavier looked intrigued.

"I've got a team of three working with me. We go to where Charles picks up the mutants, talk to them if they are on their own or old enough, or to their parents if they are younger. It's not about getting them to the school, just to let them know they're not on their own, that they can come to us or with us right now. That's what I did when the kid pushed me into the rift or portal or whatever."

He looked at his bandaged hand.

"Tried to hold on to something. It happened to be a broken window."

Charles winced a little.

"The rest of it hit me in the head," Erik added with a dark smile. "And sliced up my arm."

"What about your team?"

"I hope they got clear. The kid, Cameron, was terrified. He thought we were undercover cops. He's a small-time criminal and uses the portals to get in and out of rooms. We only caught up to him because after a while he becomes tired. Looks like loss of concentration leads to wild portals. I was caught in one."

Xavier was silent, obviously working through the information.

"How much of the bad guy am I here?" Erik interrupted his thoughts. He grimaced as he saw the expression freeze. "Okay, a lot."

"You have a different view," Charles tried diplomatically.

"Different enough for the kids here to hate me."

He leaned back, cradling his injured arm. His head ached a little and the injuries started to pull. The pain-killers were wearing off.

"Did I kill any of them, aside from Shaw?"

"No."

"But…?"

Charles briefly closed his eyes, trying not to remember how betrayed he had felt, despite the fact that he had been the one to tell her to go with him.

"Charles?"

"Raven went with you."

When he looked at the other man, he saw stunned surprise. "But… she's your sister! She would never leave you! Especially after you… after I shot you…"

"You gave her something I couldn't. You gave her an acceptance that I thought I had had shown her. You gave her a sense of pride in her difference, that she didn't have to hide. I never managed to tell her that I was proud of her as well, that while she was different, she wasn't so to me. I was used to her being who she was. I told her that she had my blessings… that she should follow what she wanted to do."

Erik rubbed his head, then winced as he encountered the injury. "What a fucked up world. Raven… I know she'd never leave you. Never. Not for me anyway."

"Then maybe my parallel self did something differently."

"I doubt it. She loves you. She wouldn't leave you alone after…" Lensherr stopped, clearly caught up in that moment again and refusing to let emotions pull him down.

"So she's still there?"

It got him a nod. Erik rose abruptly, startling Xavier. "I guess I should get back to McCoy. If he's anything like the crazy-ass scientist ours is, he won't wait for me long. He wants those scans."

Charles was treated to a smirk. Then the taller man walked out of the room. Charles followed, using the controls Hank had outfitted his wheelchair with. Nothing like this existed anywhere in the world.

"We'll find a way to get you home," he promised, reading the hard features correctly. Hank will find a way."

He got no reply, just a cool look. Because there was no certainty. They didn't know if McCoy could find a way.

tbc...  
> <p>


	5. Chapter 5

In a different reality another Hank McCoy was working on finding a way to open a stable portal to where their lost team mate had disappeared to.

"Now," he told a shaggy-haired blond boy, who looked as thin as a stick.

The boy's name was Cameron Creek, but he had taken to calling himself Rift, due to his abilities. They had served him well in the past, letting him go into locked rooms and take a few valuables. He had never taken on banks or jewelry stores. He was limited in what he could carry with him when it came to metals or stone. Organic material was no problem. Barely nineteen, he looked much younger, but his eyes were old. Street-wise, always on the run, he had never trusted anyone, and when Xavier's team had wanted to talk to him, he had run.

And he had pushed one of them through a hastily created portal. It was one he always used for those who got too close. He knew where to look, but he also knew that these things tended to collapse after a few seconds.

McCoy nodded as the portal opened, wavered, then collapsed. He looked over to where Xavier stood, watching it with a tense expression.

"I think I can stabilize the portal. Stabilizing those who go through will be another challenge. Artificial openings create a rebound effect. Whatever we push through gets pushed back after a while." He looked at Cameron. "Those you relocated through the portal couldn't go home, but the world they were in saw them as unwanted. Natural cracks don't have that effect on travelers."

"I didn't kill them," Cameron muttered mutinously.

"Maybe not willingly," Xavier said softly. "But in the end they probably died because they had no way home."

"I didn't want that! I only wanted to be left alone!"

Xavier just looked at him, really intensely, then nodded. "Help us bring back Erik and I promise there won't be consequences with the law. You can stay here, we'll help you."

"Why?" Cameron asked. There was never a gift like that without a price.

"Cause that's what we do," the auburn haired woman who had been the one who had cornered him in the end said easily. "We help guys like you. We are guys like you."

That was obvious from just looking at the blue-furred mutant called Hank McCoy.

"You have my word, Cameron," Xavier repeated.

He nodded. Somehow he believed him.

Charles started his own search for a mutant called Cameron Creek. If the boy existed in their reality, he would probably have followed the same path of small time crime. He also widened his search, trying to pinpoint mutants who might have rifting abilities.

It would take a while, but he had enough contacts and connections to make it happen. Cerebro might be an asset, but for now he would go through normal channels.

While Hank was going through the first batch of data, his machines still scanning Erik, the man in question was using the access he had been granted to look up his parallel self. His lips drew into a thin line as he went through the pages of information. When he came upon a few images, he stopped – and burst out laughing.

Hank, who had been resetting a machine, shot him a surprised look.

"He wears a cape and costume?" Erik blurted, genuinely amused and slightly horrified.

And the helmet. The one Charles had locked away and which Erik had wanted to destroy. Charles had argued that they might need this technology one day. He had relented, but not without a lengthy argument.

"He wore it the next time we ran into Magneto."

How he hated the name. Raven had teasingly given him and Charles the nicknames Magneto and Professor X. He had never used it and now, knowing that his parallel self had turned into the bad guy and used that name, it was even more repulsive.

"Probably has a bad tailor and no one to tell him he looks ridiculous," Erik muttered, flipping through the images.

"Do you wear uniforms?" Hank asked.

He shrugged, regretting it immediately. Those bruises hurt and movement of his left shoulder echoed in his injured arm.

"When we assist on missions. Mainly for body armor and when you're the one flying the Black Bird." Erik grinned. "You can pull some crazy stunts, McCoy, and not all are meant to be sustained by a human body."

Hank chuckled. "Sounds like me."

"But when I go out, I'm in civvies. No sense in making myself a target. Standing out isn't our goal."

Erik closed the page and leaned back, feeling a wave of exhaustion, followed by a sense of nausea.

"Looks like I'm in your world who The White Queen is in ours."

Hank frowned. "The White Queen?"

"It's what we call her and what she loves to call herself. Emma Frost. Telepath."

McCoy looked up from his work. "She was one of Shaw's followers. We caught her, but Magneto freed her from her cell."

Erik grimaced. "I see we also differ in taste of allies."

That got him a brief smile. "Most likely."

"We don't see much of Frost. She likes to pull the strings, loves power and wealth and men who can get her what she wants. She's not some lunatic who's trying to take over the world, but she's a pain the ass anyway. Manipulative bitch. She couldn't hold Azazel and Riptide's services either. Charles actually got them to teach now and then."

Hank stared. "He did?" he blurted. "Really?"

"Yeah. Weird, hm?" The nausea rose and Erik fought back. "Riptide's good. He doesn't really talk much outside the classroom, but he is patient. For some reason, Azazel is, too. He's scary and he had some students terrified the first few times, but aside from Raven he's the only mutant to be physically completely different. It helps those with physical differences to accept themselves, grow more confident."

Hank fiddled with a few tools. "Probably."

And then the pain started. Like a fist into the stomach it exploded through his body. Erik screamed.

He should have listened to his instinct. He should have listened to logic. Bottom line: he should have listened!

But he had been caught up in his sometimes too cluttered mind. A high IQ always came with a downside, like ignoring logic and reason and safety procedures. Fascinated by their visitor from a parallel world, a reality that had separated from theirs a long time ago and grown along a different path, Hank had jumped head-first into his research and the questioning of this Erik. Lensherr had at first been reluctant, but after a while he had thawed a little and given McCoy the answers and information he needed.

Until the next shift had happened.

McCoy stared in horrified amazement as Erik doubled over with a scream of pain, his shape blurring. It was more violent than the last time, both to his patient and everything surrounding them. This time it also affected Erik's abilities and his control over them. A scanner zipped past him, nearly clipping him in the head. A squeal of alarm came from somewhere, then a row of metal cabinets was ripped off the wall and hurtled through the room.  
>Hank cursed colorfully and ducked just in time as tools spilled out and whisked toward him. One grazed his cheek, one his shoulder. It stung.<p>

"Get out," came the breathy order. "GET OUT! NOW!"

He looked into the agony-filled eyes of a mutant who was so powerful that it was probably past the normal scale. Erik Lensherr, Magneto in their world, was keeping it together with a superhuman effort. But his control was failing. He was fighting something no one knew how to stop, least of all himself, and the universe wasn't easily beaten. But he tried.

"Out!"

As if to underline the order, the computer screens were torn off and hissed like angry, rectangular Frisbees over his head. They shattered loudly, parts flying everywhere. The shards suddenly lifted into a storm of deathly projectiles, dancing just out of Hank's immediate reach.

A whimper escaped Erik's lips and he doubled over once more. The shards advanced. Two new tornados grew, filled with metal debris and tools.

By now the alarm klaxons were ringing loudly.

Hank made a run for it, aware that the moment Erik failed, things would go from abysmally bad to hellishly fatal for him. He relied on his speed and agility as he dodged wayward drawers, pens and even some coins. He dove out of the door, which slammed shut behind him, just before something really big hit it with a loud, reverberating clang.

From inside the lab, the sounds turned frightening.

And then the heavy lab door started to creak and groan under stress.

Followed by an inhuman scream of soul-deep pain.

tbc...

Actions 


	6. Chapter 6

Charles knew he had only one chance. While Erik was shifting he had access to his mind and he had to use it. He tried to shield himself against the pain, but it was hard. This was still a version of Erik Lensherr and he had been inside a similar mind before. Yes, they were different, but pain was pain, and Xavier didn't want to inflict any more.

::You can control this:: he sent. ::You're in control::

The door was bulging inward.

::There is calmness in you. You can find that point. Look for it. Calm your mind, take control. I can guide you::

He was asking for a trust this man had given the parallel Charles. A trust he wasn't entitled to. But he needed it to help Erik, this Erik.

"Take me out!" the mutant yelled, his mind projecting loudly. "Just do it!"

::Erik…::

"DO IT!"

::You can control this::

"I can't, Charles! I know I can't! I'm out of control and the moment I slip, you'll all go down with me! Knock me out NOW!"

He had only lasted this far because of his training, because of a laser-sharp mind refusing to give in. The shifting tore him apart, ate away his defenses, and it was only a matter of time.

Soon.

Very soon.

Erik screamed, blood staining the bandages, running freely down his face.

"CHARLES!"

"Please…"

Charles hated to do what the other man requested. It would be violent, brutal, maybe not unnecessary, but it would tear into a mind that was already way beyond its limits.

The door moved, opening a crack, and the howl of the unnatural metal tornadoes grew. Hank moved back, looking anxious, and the others – Havoc and Banshee – reflected his expression. Havoc was ready, his energies coiling, even though he had no real plan.

"CHARLES!" the scream came again. "NOW!"

Finally Xavier closed his eyes. His mind caressed that of Erik. ::Forgive me. I'm sorry::

And he sent a lance into the other mind, felling the powerful mutant on the spot.

Metal objects crashed to the ground, no longer controlled by the electromagnetic powers this man yielded with ease. Hank was already moving, pushing the twisted door open with superhuman strength and squeezing through. He sidestepped sharp objects and hurried over to his patient.

Unnaturally pale, appearing almost bloodless, Erik lay in a heap. Even now the pain showed and he was bleeding from his old wounds, which had been ripped open by the violent shifting. Havoc and Banshee approached gingerly, but Hank would have none of it.

"Help me get him out of here," he demanded.

They followed the order, gingerly and carefully handling their visitor.

Charles kept his mind on the unconscious man, feeling the tremors racing through him on levels only a powerful telepath could perceive.

::I'm so sorry, my friend::

- Rehab took a while. Charles was adamant about getting the use of all his muscles back and he pushed himself. He went from general rehab methods to those Hank had worked out for him and he refused to back down when the pain became too much or his muscles trembled from exertion.

Erik watched him, shaking his head at the stubbornness, but he had expected no less. This was Charles Xavier, the man who had jumped into a frigid ocean to get him to let go of the submarine. He had forced himself onto the other mutant's mind and he had seen more than he had probably bet he would. And he had made his point.

Erik had never before been swayed from a task, but Charles had managed the unthinkable.

Ever since then, Lensherr had been astounded anew with what his new ally did and could do. Charles was relentless, he refused to give up or give in, and he was good. At whatever he did. He was brilliant. Naïve, idealistic, but brilliant.

So he watched over him as Xavier labored on and he worked with him in the weight rooms. He used ounces of his powers to help with the weights, he challenged his friend to do better, and Charles' grin whenever he caught the intention was worth it.

When the telepath wasn't too tired in the evening, they spent some time together, talking, playing chess or another game, and they sometimes just were in each other's company as they read. Erik started to experience something he had no words for. He was calmer, more settled, and if he had ever had a home since his own had been ripped from him, this might be it.

"Slow," he told his friend when Charles wanted to push.

It was a round of easy running. Not fast, no competition, and he was watching Xavier closely. Dressed in gray sweats he had been on his usual run when he had seen Charles doing the same. A lot slower.

"You undo more with overdoing it than helping the healing along."

Sweat streaming down his face, the other man stopped, hands on the stone balustrade. He was out of breath and his expression was close to angry. He was out of shape and it wasn't something Charles was used to.

Erik waited. He knew anger and frustration.

Finally Charles pushed away, turned, and leaned against the balustrade. He was still sweating, but his breathing was under control. The stubborn line between his eyes stayed.

Erik grinned. "You'll get back on that horse."

It got him a snort.

"And you'll do it in one piece. No need to aggravate Hank any more than necessary."—-

Charles took a steadying breath. Just seeing his other self, on his own two feet, filled him with pain and longing. But this wasn't him, this wasn't his world.

Hank fussed over his patient, replacing soiled bandages, restitching the wounds once more, and taking readings.

"This really messed him up, Professor."

Xavier knew. He felt it. The connection had never been this open.

- Erik was amazed how time flew by and he found he didn't feel the need to leave. There was nothing pushing him on, no revenge, no anger, no pain. For the first time in two decades he was without a purpose. He had done what he had come to do. He was a weapon without a purpose. Time seemed to stand still while the world moved on.

He took his time exploring the gigantic manor, getting to know the layout and the floors one by one. He walked across the grounds, equally exploring. By the end of the first month, which was filled with keeping an eye on Xavier and the kids, as well as committing the layout to memory, he was very much familiar with it all.

He was amazed by McCoy's abilities to create fantastic machines from what seemed to be scrap, plan labs and underground levels that would extend four or five storeys underground, and at his tenaciousness to rebuild the Black Bird. Sometimes he and Charles sat together for hours, talking shop, and wherever Xavier took the money from, and it was a lot, he supplied McCoy with whatever was needed.

"Robbed a bank?" Erik once asked casually.

Charles grinned good-naturedly. "Trust fund."

"One hell of a trust fund."

It got him a smug look and he found he didn't care.—-

- Rebuilding Cerebro required more than just cobbling a few wires together and giving it a cool look. Hank had to come up with a replacement for almost everything and in the end it was decided to bury the new Cerebro deep in the ground. A spherical room that was enormous was excavated underneath the manor. It took months and while the kids with the power to disintegrate rock and dirt helped, it was a slow process. No one wanted to bring down the house.

The next step was shielding, which tickled Erik's abilities. He hadn't done anything but a few parlor tricks and like with everything, he needed to train. So he stunned McCoy with the offer to help.

"Help?" the blue-furred mutant echoed.

"Metal plates?" Erik teased, feeling strangely at easy and in the mood. "Metal bolts?" He raised the bolts with a light flick of his wrist, playing with them.

They elegantly sailed through the air, growing more numerous until about four dozen of them wove in complicated patterns, never touching each other as they danced. Erik knew he had gotten a lot better at this, had discovered new nuances to his powers he had never been aware of before, and he knew he owed it to training here. Before Charles Xavier he had always ever been taught to weaponize his abilities. There had never been finesse. Oh, there had been when it came to surgical strikes, but not out of pure playfulness. Or because he could make himself useful, could assist outside the strike-kill-maim program.

Hank was definitely shocked by the offer. "Uh, okay," he finally said, eying the twirling bolts.

Erik gave him a wide grin.

And so began a strange kind of work relationship where Hank McCoy gave his new 'assistant' general directions and Erik bent metal to his will. He held objects in place for McCoy to work with, he bolted thick metal to rock walls and he assisted in floating metal boards to wherever Hank was working. Slowly but surely the first layer of protective shields coated the rock face. Between them, Cerebro's chamber took on shape. New sub-levels were created, labs were ready to be stocked, and a training chamber was drawn up on paper.

Havoc joined in from time to time, blasting holes where they were needed and having a fun time letting his powers obliterate tons of rock. He had control over his abilities and it was rewarding to know that this had been Charles's work. Erik had to smile to himself at the youthful exuberance.

There was also Brian, a nineteen year old who could actually shift rock if he concentrated. They had discovered him in a mining town where he had worked since he was sixteen. It was his work that helped create the tunnels that connected the future launch chamber of the new Black Bird and the dome-like structure that now housed Cerebro's basic lay-out.

"I'm impressed," Xavier told him one evening over a night cap.

"Keeps the boredom away. And I'm learning a few more things."

It got him a knowing look, which he refused to comment on. He was getting a lot more work-out with this, he was learning to divide his attention in a way that didn't involve a knife, a gun and maybe some cutlery. He worked according to plans, bent metal in perfect curves so the sheets formed a dome. He learned to follow instructions that sounded outrageous and still made so much sense when looking at the finished product.

He learned.

And he grew.

Meeting the intelligent blue eyes, Erik was aware that Charles knew all that. And the quiet approval gave him more than anything ever before.—-

- While it sounded easy to bolt heavy metal plates against rock and other metal, it was something that Erik hadn't done before. It was stretching his abilities to the limit, even though it was a repetitive process – lift, position, raise bolts, hammer bolts through the bolt holes. This wasn't about just lifting an object or guiding a weapon to its target. This was a combination of different skills, of coordinating and fine-tuning what he had always been able to do.

He had had some trouble the first few days, but now he had a good grasp on it. He had developed his powers to adjust to the situation, and it was fun. It didn't get easier, just more familiar.  
>Raising a ceiling plate the size of an eighteen wheeler, Erik let it move to its position. He had raised his left arm over his head as if holding the plate by physical force alone, then let the bolts float upwards with a gentle flick of his right hand. There were over one hundred bolts and he was aware of every single one of them.<p>

Face taut with concentration, Lensherr fixed the plate with a cool look, then made a flicking motion with his right hand. The bolts shot forward, right into the bolt holes and into the rock wall. The resulting noise was that of over one hundred tiny explosions.

The plate was anchored firmly.

He grinned.

And the next gigantic plate rose.

By the end of the morning he had finished the ceiling and had started with the gently curving walls, which were trickier and needed a lot more concentration. But he worked fluidly, ignoring the outside world, focused on his task.

The last plate wobbled as he lifted it and started to sag a little. Defiantly he raised it, tension showing in every line of his body. He sent the bolts flying and they buried in the hard rock.

A wave of exhaustion raced through him and he felt himself list a little. He had reached his limit – a while ago. It came as a surprise that when he wanted to walk, his knees wobbled and gave way.

A large hand grabbed him, hauling him back up. For a second Erik's brain was too muddled to tell who was touching him, but then he saw blue fur and the fight response shut down.

"Easy," Hank rumbled. "You overdid it. As I thought you might. When was the last time you ate?"  
>Good question. Erik tried to recall just what time it was.<p>

"Okay," McCoy commented, not waiting for an answer. "That's it for today. Probably for a while. Let's get you out of here and somewhere with food and something to drink."

Erik wanted to fight the inhumanly strong hand on his shoulder, but he was too mentally exhausted to care that Hank was more or less dragging him out of the semi-finished room. A growl made him aware of nearly walking into the closed elevator doors.

He was really far gone.

He was unceremoniously hauled into the study – Charles' study - and pushed to sit. A plate of food appeared in front of him and a bottle of water stood on the table.

Erik's stomach rumbled.

"Eat."

And he did. The haze lifted after a while and he found himself studied by amused blue eyes, filled with a tiny shard of worry.

"Amazing," the telepath only said.

"What?" Erik mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"Your abilities. Beautiful and amazing and breath-taking. You're growing exponentially. You haven't reached your limit yet. Hank told me about the progress you're making. He's impressed, just like I am."

Erik shrugged and drank from the bottle in huge gulps. Heaven. Part of him was preening, a small, child-like part. Another was shoving that side of him back where he had locked it away. But hearing Charles compliment him, call his progress breath-taking and beautiful…

"But you need to pace yourself, Erik."

"I didn't notice, Charles," he replied, starting to feel a bit pissed off. He concentrated on that; he was familiar with it. The other emotional stuff was complicating his life. "Don't treat me like a kid!"

Charles leaned forward, the blue eyes intense. "I'm not. I worry about you. That's all."  
>And there went control again, right out the window and hurtling over the cliff side.<p>

Damn the man! Damn him! —-

tbc...  
> <p>


	7. Chapter 7

Charles knew he should have stopped there. He knew that this was private, but it was the only time this man was so open. And he wanted to know. He had felt trickles of something teasing him and it was deeper, more intimate, than he was comfortable with. But he wanted… needed to know… because this was about his parallel self.

So he touched deeper.

- Erik had been at the mansion for six months now. He was part of the team, the students turned to him with questions, and he liked answering, helping… maybe even teaching. He had been with Charles to help him figure out a deal with the government so they would be left alone, and it was a tricky kind of back and forth between both sides and the outcome was still open.

With Charles back in shape and mobile, they were following the coordinates the first generation Cerebro had printed out. The new model was still not functional and Hank needed a lot more time. But they had pages full of locations and Charles wanted to follow up on them.

So both were back to what they had done before: looking for mutants and offer them a way out if they wanted to. Or an open invitation should they ever need a place to stay, an open ear to listen to them.

With just the two of them, sharing close quarters, traveling, having so much time to themselves, Erik found that emotions he had shoved away ever since The Beach were coming back. He wasn't used to them. They were mostly unfamiliar and confusing. Seeing Charles half-naked, seeing the scars running from underneath the pants up his back, had Erik replay that moment. And more emotions rose. Not just the guilt.

He stared at the closed bathroom door where Charles was brushing his teeth. He had fought what was leading him closer and closer to Charles for so long, and it had weakened his defenses. Why was he fighting? Erik had no idea. It was almost inevitable. It had been there for so long, before The Beach, and he had always pushed it away. The man was getting to him. This guileless, sometimes too-innocent-for-his-own-good, good-natured, naïve, idealistic, maddening…

The bathroom door opened and Charles stepped outside, stopping when he found Erik's intense gaze on him. Erik got up from the bed in one lithe move. Charles gave him this confused look, but he didn't move away when the taller man approached, though there was a moment of uncertainty.

"Erik?"

"I figured it out."

The sudden calmness in the blue eyes made him shiver. "Oh. And?"

"And you're the frigging mind-reader! You know! You know, right?"

He advanced on the slightly smaller man. Emotions churned. Anger. Rage. So familiar. So easy to fall back upon. And there was more. Need. Soft waves of something he had no word for in his vocabulary.

Charles grinned impishly. "I do."

Erik pushed him back against the wall, leaning closer, fighting his darker side. He wouldn't go the easy way. He didn't have to do it as he was used to. This was a new life.

"You knew!"

"I knew one possible outcome."

"And if I had walked away?"

Charles licked his lips. "Then holding you back would have been a mistake."

"You would have let me go? Just like that?"

"I can't force my emotions on you."

He laughed. Cold and cruel. "You can. There's nothing you can't do to my mind, Xavier! I saw what you're capable of!"

Charles flinched a little.

"You're powerful," Erik pressed on, driving the point home. "You like to hide the fact, you want to think you're such a good guy, but you're a fucking telepath!"

"I know what I am, Erik."

"So you could force your emotions on me!"

"I'd never influence you like that." Charles met his angry gaze head on. "It was for you to decide. I already knew myself."

Erik leaned closer, body taut. "So this isn't just me?"

"No. It never was."

"Since when?" he demanded.

Charles shrugged. "A little while after you joined us. It was a slow simmer that I tried to ignore. When I touched your mind the first time, keeping you from killing yourself in your need for revenge, it was there. It was this feeling… and it grew in time. Your mind is… complex, Erik. Sharp and powerful and so fast… dangerous and dark… and at the beach…" He stopped, then ploughed on, "at the beach I gave you my trust. Completely. I do trust you in every way, Erik. With all of me."

Erik remembered the rightness of being with the other man, of staying, making up for his insanity, the moment he had almost betrayed his best friend. He had looked into the pained eyes and there had been no other choice. He would stay with Charles.

But it had gone beyond that.

He knew it had never been simple and now it was way past complicated.

"Fuck…" Erik stared at him, stunned by the confession. "You're a moron, Charles Francis Xavier. A too polite for your own good IDIOT!"

And then he kissed him.—-

Charles blinked, forcefully pulling out of the connection. He hadn't seen that one coming. He hadn't ever thought that…

Bloody… hell…

Pulling all the way back he withdrew from the connection, even though it was impossible to not listen in to the trickles coming through.

- His whole world collapsed and then realigned itself.

He felt lips on his and the slender form of the telepath was suddenly so very close to him. Charles' arms were wrapped around Erik, holding him, pulling him closer. Pent-up lust and need and emotions broke free and Erik felt them all tumble through him.

The connection. The damned connection! Charles wasn't aware of linking to him, nor did Erik actually mind. He caught flickers, sensations, and it was more than anyone could put into words.

A soft groan from Charles only spurned him on, made him deepen the kiss.–-

-"You love me."

Charles met his sharp eyes. "I have for a long time, my friend."

"You're such a stubborn fool, Charles."

"But you love me?"

Erik pulled him close, rolled on top of him to look into the brilliant blue eyes. His expression grew tender.

"I love you." -

- The scar was still reddish and prominent. In time, Charles had been assured, it would pale and grow less. Right now it was a jagged path across his lower back and to his left hip. No amount of surgery had been able to reduce the mark due to the erratic path of the bullet.

Erik traced it like hypnotized. He had been there throughout it all, had had blood on his hands. Literally.

"Can you feel this?" he asked softly.

"Yes. The numbness is gone."

Charles turned his head, looking at him. He was stretched out on his stomach, on his bed, arms pillowing his head. Erik had asked him to turn around and he had done so without a question as to why.

He had probably sensed the reason.

Erik splayed his hand over the scar, feeling the ridges and bump. For a while Charles had had no feeling in that area of skin, but that had been because of severed nerve-endings.

Could have been deeper.

Could have been a vertebra.

He stroked over the lean sides of pale skin. Paler than his. Charles, for all his abilities, was a scholar and it showed. He taught, he educated, he read, he wrote papers.

::I'm not fat:: came the lazy reply with a tinge of complaint.

"No, you're not," he conceded.

Erik worked out, kept fit, and he knew it was like an obsession. He had been drilled and the programming was hard to break through.

::And you look stunning:: Charles purred.

He blinked.

::Beautiful::

"I'm the girl in this relationship now?"

Charles grinned, completely at ease under Erik's hands. Hands that had killed; a man who had taken the lives of many men.

::You're very much a man, Erik::

Images flooded him and Erik fought down his arousal. He pushed back and Charles smiled more.

"Men are not beautiful, Charles."

::But you are. Stunning and gorgeous and handsome and just Erik::

The warmth grew and Erik leaned down, kissing the scars, then working his way up the spine. Charles closed his eyes, eddies of pleasure lapping at Erik's mind. –-

Charles screwed his eyes shut at the tender image of Erik touching his parallel self, watching him, his emotions overwhelming. Mind, body and soul. Everything. Belonging. Need.

Emotions alien to him, unable to understand how he could still feel this way, but feeling nonetheless. Surrounded by a shield that bore Charles' name, protecting him in turn.

- A weekend together. A surprise holiday the students had organized to get their professor and his partner some time off. Neither of them had known that their relationship was this much out in the open – and accepted.

"Go," Raven told them, laughing, yellow eyes sparkling with humor. "It'll be good for you."

And then she winked.

Charles was still staring, open-mouthed, when she was gone. Erik reached over and gently pushed his chin up.

"She's your sister," he teased. "You should know her by now."

"I thought we had been more secretive," Charles stammered.

Erik laughed, clearly deeply amused. "You, my friend, have hardly been secretive."

Outrage flared in the blue eyes.

"You're an open book, Charles."

He huffed. Erik slipped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss against his temple.

"She's your sister and she knows you, you idiot. She has eyes."

"We're not making out in the open and I've never…" Charles stopped, scowling at the laughing man. "You're impossible!"

"And you're blowing this out of proportion. They know. Good. We can stop hiding." –-

- Yellow eyes that looked barely human fixed him with a hard stare. Erik had to say he was impressed. While Raven was behaving like a teenager most of the times, that look told him that he was facing a young adult right now. A very intent and focused young adult.

"Don't you ever hurt him," she said, voice cool and faintly threatening.

"How would you know?" he challenged her. "There are many ways of hurt and pain."

Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't amused or impressed. "He's my brother, Erik. I've known him for most of my life. I'll know."

He chuckled.

It didn't come across well as Raven now snarled. Erik raised a placating hand.

"I won't ever hurt Charles," he vowed. "In any way."

She lost some of her tension. "I know you're good for each other. Just don't fuck it up, okay? He can be bit of a hardhead. And he's a bit too… soft sometimes. But he's Charles. He's my brother. I love him."

"He's Charles," Erik acknowledged, grinning.

And he loved him.

"And he's sensitive. Don't ever tell him that. He'll take it the wrong way. It's just that his ability sensitizes him. He's also a moron and despite being a telepath, he doesn't always get it." Raven looked hard at him again. "You know what you're getting into, right?"

"He knows what he's getting into, too," Erik answered calmly.

The realization what he was talking about seemed to settle almost immediately and the young woman frowned. Then she nodded once.

"Like I said, you're good for one another. Kick him in the head now and then. I can't do it any more. He needs it, Erik. He needs it to get out of the fugue he sometimes has. Telepathy is a bitch."

He chuckled at her harshness. He had noticed before and he had developed a sixth sense for when Charles needed human contact, a touch, a brush against his skin, a word or two.

"I noticed. You have my word, Raven. I will protect him. I will never hurt him in any way." –-

"I can't do more for him," Hank said, pulling Charles out of his – Erik's - thoughts.

He had placed his patient into another room that didn't look like a wrecking crew had run through. He had hooked Erik up to several monitors and ran a feed into his veins to replenish his fluids.

Xavier nodded. "I'll stay with him," he offered.

"Professor…"

"It'll be okay, Hank."

McCoy didn't look happy, but he left. Charles rolled over to the prone man and studied the familiar features. It was easier now to skim Erik's mind and he picked up the differences in the lives of both Erik's. Everything had been just the same until the Cuban Missile Crisis. After that, the memories were like a movie he didn't know the plot of beforehand.

Like Erik and his parallel self. It sounded so out of this world; something he had never consciously pondered.

Had he ever felt an attraction? Had there ever been any doubt? Could there had been more?

There were no answers now and he doubted he would ever find them.

tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

  
>It was dark outside and the night was cloudy, threatening rain. Piles of work were on his desk, but Charles Xavier felt no drive to do anything about it. Before they had stumbled over Rift, Erik and his team had been preparing to fly to Africa where a young girl was apparently able to control the weather. That trip had been cancelled and put on the back-burner for now.<p>Charles leaned his head against the cool glass. The manor felt empty. There were two dozen students, but it was empty. Everything seemed so much darker and without life. He wasn't a love-sick fool, but he knew how much Erik meant for him, how much their partnership meant for this school and the students.<p>

The dark and the light.

He almost laughed.

Who was to say Erik was the dark? Charles himself had had some very unsavory thoughts sometimes. Erik might be the one with a danger factor that sent every instinct squealing in alarm, but Charles' power was just as deadly. He just didn't look it.

The emptiness in his mind was shocking. For the first time since meeting Erik Lensherr in a cold ocean in the middle of the night, launching himself at him physically as well as mentally, he was without the familiar mind next to him. Charles hadn't told his partner for a long, long time that the first contact had created a connection between them like it had never done for the telepath before. Whenever he read a mind or simply touched another, it was brief and just for that purpose. There had never been a lingering side-effect.

Erik had been different.

Erik had fit. Like a glove. Like a second skin. He had been right. He had taken comfort from this presence and it had only strengthened, cemented in their minds the moment Erik had surrendered to Charles at the beach; when Charles had given him his ultimate trust… when their lives had forever been changed.

Now there was the void.

He hated the cold, dark place, He hated not to be able to touch Erik's presence without ever touching his mind. He hated losing himself in that loss. He hated being weak.

Pushing away from the window Charles walked past the desk with all its work and continued down to Hank's labs. Rift was asleep in one corner, guarded by a huge auburn-haired dog that gave him a sharp look. The boy was completely exhausted and despite his fear as to what repercussions might still happen, he had finally given in to his need to rest.

"Progress," Hank reported, nodding at the yellow liquid currently under a scanner.

"The stabilizer?"

"Yes. I have to run some more tests, but it won't be much longer, Professor."

He nodded. Hank looked up and suddenly set down his tools. His inhuman eyes narrowed, filling with realization and knowledge. Charles hated being so open, but his defenses had worn away and he felt raw. He could have asked Raven to be his anchor, but she had no experience. He only knew her mind a lot better, without ever having read it, because she was his long-time family. Still he refused to be this needy, to give in and surrender to his abilities.

A faint pulse of pain blossomed behind his eyes. A clear sign that he was about to get a headache that might end up in a migraine.

"We'll find him, Charles," Hank said, voice softening. "We'll get him back."

What if he hadn't survived the portal? What if he had been too injured to last on the other side?

Charles forcefully tore himself away from those thoughts. Erik was alive. He had to be. Hank gave him an awkward pat on the arm, then turned back his work. Xavier took the hint and left the lab.

Alone with his thoughts in the otherwise quiet mansion. He finally buried himself in his work to distract himself from the gruesome possibilities of Erik's fate.

Not that it worked.

It was a tiny distraction in a powerful storm.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Raven found him with his head on the desk, sleeping, paper stuck to one cheek. Sadness filled her eyes and she watched the uneasy rest her brother was getting. Walking silently over to him, Raven touched his unruly hair, whispering,

"Charles?"

He blinked his eyes open, looking owlish, disoriented.

"Hn?"

"Go to bed, Charles."

He sat up, wincing as his muscles reminded him of how bad his sleeping choice had been.

"Raven?"

"Go to bed. Hank is still working. He'll call."

He blinked again, looking young and vulnerable and alone. She leaned forward, placing a kiss against his forehead.

"We'll find him. And then he'll need you whole and rested."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Raven had long since realized how much Erik mattered to Charles. How much Erik needed her brother in turn. She had never felt jealous, for losing a brother or never gaining Lensherr as a lover. She was happy with her own life, with Hank, and with her brother's choice.

"Sleep," she murmured into the tousled hair, pulling him up.

Charles went willingly, too exhausted to argue much, and from his pinched look, he was headachy, too. She watched him closely as he stripped down, ignoring his one Look that told her he would prefer privacy.

"Fat chance, brother," she muttered, aware that he was probably hearing her.

Charles slipped under the covers and was almost immediately out like a light.

Raven sat on the side of the bed for a long, long time, running her fingers through Charles' hair in a sisterly caress. He had been there for her so much in the past, protecting her, helping her, trying to be a brother. It was her turn now.

They would get Erik back. She had complete confidence in Hank.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Erik woke slowly and the lines of pain were deeply etched into his face. He looked at the man in the wheelchair, watching him carefully. There was something in those almost-familiar blue eyes, some kind of strange expression that alarmed him a little.

- Charles looked at the man stretched out on the bed in front of him. Cool gray eyes regarded him with an almost predatory calm. Arms were folded under the dark head. Despite being stark naked, Erik Lensherr felt completely at ease. The intense blue eyes watching him had the opposite effect of making him want to run and hide; actually, he was drawn to the telepath like to no one before.

Last night had been an eye-opener. He had discovered emotions within him that he had thought had died over two decades ago. He was reluctant to give them a name, almost as if that would jinx it, but he felt them. He shivered at the memory of Charles tracing his numerous scars, old and recent, knowing where they had come from.

"Deep thoughts?" he teased his watcher.

Charles smiled. "Appreciative ones."

A thrill ran through him. He could appreciate Charles, too, who was clad only in a flimsy hotel-issue towel. Not as rigorously trained to reflect perfect muscular strength, but attractive in a way that made Erik's mouth water. Charles might look soft and a bit paler than him, but the strength was there; the power.

He chuckled. "After last night, I hope so." He sat up, not the least bit concerned with covering himself. "You've done this before."

The telepath shrugged and walked over to the bed. Erik grabbed the towel and pulled, removing it and bringing his lover closer for a kiss.

"I have."

"And it caught your taste?"

"Yes. Lucky you."

The kiss deepened and Charles slid over him.

"Hm, yes, lucky me." Erik felt more than lucky. He splayed his hands over the smooth back. "Lucky, lucky me."

"And you caught on quick."

Because Charles had probably sensed that this had been a first for him in a way. In his quest for revenge, sexual contact had been a bartering tool. He had never loved anyone of them; he had never had a single positive emotion. They had been tools; he had gotten satisfaction.

"Had a good teacher, Professor."

Charles laughed and pulled back. "Kinky."

"You have no idea." He felt playful. He had never felt like this before. And he wanted to do so much, try more with this man.

"I aim to please," Charles purred.

"You did more than that."

The other mutant flipped them around, hovering over Xavier. He grinned, feeling downright adventurous. Charles didn't need to be a mind-reader to pick up on that. His own insufferable grin reflected that. They wouldn't be getting out of bed any time soon.—-

Erik blinked and took a deep breath as those memories came to the forefront. He knew who had pulled them there and from Xavier's slightly dazed expression, he had caught a little more than he had bargained for.

He would have laughed if it hadn't been too draining. So he settled for what he figured was a good imitation of a dark grin.

Charles looked caught.

"I guess you two never had that chance?" Erik rasped, interpreting the light blush correctly.

He felt weak as a kitten, unable to sit up, but his powers told him that he was surrounded by metal and that made him twitchy.

"Who wimped out? You or my parallel self?"

"We never…" Charles started.

Erik sighed. "You're lying to yourself."

He knew his Charles. He knew the expression. He knew that this one was lying through his teeth.

"You can't know what might have happened here."

"No, probably not. Neither can you, though."

His head ached. His arm was tormenting him. He felt like crap squared and he knew things would only get worse.

"Why am I here?"

Charles frowned.

"In this room. Don't tell me you haven't some kind of special chamber to hold Magneto if you ever catch him. Somewhere my mind can't find metal."

"Erik…"

Something warm flashed through him.

- He watched the developing relationship between Hank and Raven with interest. The young woman had finally accepted what she was completely. She didn't hide while inside the manor, the training rooms, or when on the grounds. Erik had given her a nod of approval when she had caught him looking once. It had drawn such a wide, happy smile, he had smiled back.

Mutant and proud.

Hank, who couldn't change his exterior and who was stuck being Beast, had come out of his unplanned transformation with a new confidence, but also with a temper he had to learn to control. The beast inside of him snarled at those the rather timid Hank McCoy had looked away from before. But he learned quickly.

Erik had seen the two of them in the labs, Raven learning to use the machines, quick on the uptake and hungry for knowledge, to be useful. Hank looked pleased to teach her, was happy when she was happy about successes, and he had this soft expression in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

"She likes him."

He had felt the approach of the other man, but it hadn't alarmed him. Charles' closeness didn't evoke a fight response. It was actually rather calming.

"He likes her, too." Erik smirked. "Who would have thought?"

He might have unconsciously pushed the development of the young woman from girl to woman. She had been in his bed, offering herself, and he had told her in no uncertain terms that who she was, what she was, was something to show, to be proud of. The kiss had been that of a girl.

Charles sneaked an arm around his waist, dropping a kiss on Erik's neck.

"They'll find their way."

Then he walked away. Erik felt tingles race through him. Damn this man! Before the start of their relationship everything had been simple and down to a one-night stand. Now… now he liked the warmth and the companionship and the safety of a partner and the extended family of this school. Charles Xavier was making him feel things; good things.

Following the telepath he waited until Charles was in his study, then he pushed the door shut and reached out with his mind to lock it tightly. Charles shot him an amused look. The impish expression, the knowledge…

Grabbing him by his thrice-damned hand-knit sweater, Erik pulled him into a kiss. "You drive me crazy!" he whispered when they parted.

An innocent smile was the answer. Warm hands slid under the hem of his shirt. "Really."

Erik kissed him again. "Really," he growled. "You drive me crazy, Charles Xavier. You are crazy. A madman!"

"Why?"

"This. All of this. Me. The kids. All."

"I think it's exactly what is needed, what you and I need. You're what I need, Erik."

Erik shivered and buried his face against the warm neck. "I nearly…"

Charles shook his head and forced him to meet his eyes. ::That's over, Erik::

"Never."

::The future is complicated enough without this baggage on your mind."

Erik brushed over the scars, hidden under clothes. The next kiss was gentle, loving, and apologetic. Charles simply held him, then the telepathic touch caressed Erik's mind. He opened up, let it happen, wasn't afraid.—-

"I'm sorry," Charles blurted.

Erik smiled tiredly, barely a twitch of his lips. "Not your fault. You're the telepath."

Yes, he was. It also meant he should be able to stop, but Erik was projecting. Charles rubbed two fingers over his temples. It was so very hard to ignore and part of him was so very curious.

Erik closed his eyes, exhaustion in every line of his body. "How bad was it?" he asked, referring to his 'episode'.

"I believe Hank's words could be summed up as 'totaled'."

"Huh." His eyes opened again. Charles knew the headache of his knock-out punch was growing stronger. "You have to lock me up."

"No."

"You have this room for Magneto, right? I know you have."

"Erik, no," he repeated, voice harder this time.

The gray eyes narrowed and the whole man, despite his desolate state, radiated anger and slivers of danger. "Yes, Charles. I'm asking you to lock me up somewhere safe where I can't hurt any of you. This will happen again. The next shift could bring down this house, Xavier! You know it, I know it."

"You're not our prisoner, Erik."

"And I don't feel like one. I'm asking you for a new guest room. One where I won't hurt or kill anyone!" The last was said with a harsh, cold note.

He tiredly rubbed his temples again. Erik suddenly reached out and his flailing hand caught Charles'. The contact was electric, sending a million images through the telepath's mind. He gasped, seeing Erik's time as a prisoner, as an experiment, as a tool for a man who he had killed in the end. Being locked up was terrible for Lensherr, but asking for it…

"Please, Charles…" he said, voice intense, almost hypnotic. "I'll lock myself up if I have to. I'll ask one of your kids to get me there. At gun point if I have to."

Charles looked into the tired eyes, aware that Erik was unable to move on his own right now, but he would find a way, as he had promised.

- Exhausted, breathing hard, his whole body reflecting the passion they had shared, he had nothing left. Arms closed around him and Erik, who had never been a cuddler, snuggled into the embrace. Warm eyes regarded him, the depths of the emotions taking his breath away. Possessive.

_Mine._

_Won't let you go._

_Ever._

And he wouldn't go. Ever.–-

Charles rocked back at the flood, seeing his parallel self undone and out of control, seeing this Erik touch and caress and gently kiss his partner. He caught Erik's knowing smile.

"Gotcha again?" he asked, voice breathy and tired.

This wasn't Magneto. He had never been Magneto. He would never become the man who fought against his old friend. This was another man and someone who had to survive until they figured out how to get him back home.

"Okay," he finally said softly. "We'll relocate you."

It drew a relieved smile. "Thank you."

He caught a flash again, warm and tender and intimate. Private. He refused to follow the teasing memory, locked his mind against the knowledge.

- He brushed back a strand of hair, smiling as the lock bounced rebelliously back. Charles gave a sleepy mumble, but Erik kept up the gentle caress. He loved the feel of that wavy hair. He loved the feel of the slender form of his lover next to him. He loved feeling.

The telepath at his side sighed, then curled closer. The hair fell back over his forehead and Erik smiled more. Happily. At home. -

That last one had snuck through and Charles found himself smiling, unconsciously pushing his flopping hair back out of his face.

"You're not our prisoner, Erik," he said.

"I know. I'm doing this voluntarily. You need to be safe from me."

"We've always been safe from you."

"Even from Magneto?"

Charles smiled sadly. "Yes." He didn't elaborate. He didn't want to.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Two hours later Erik settled on a bed that held not a single trace of metal, in a room that was made out of plastic, and which was shielded with several layers of non-metallic components.

"Good work, Hank," Erik said as he weakly scanned. "Can't feel a thing."

McCoy didn't look pleased, though he should be. The scientist was as unhappy about it all as Xavier.

"Don't give me that look. We both know it's the only way."

"Maybe. But I don't have to like it."

No, neither of them had to.

tbc... 


	9. Chapter 9

Real sleep had eluded him, as it had for the past few days already. He caught naps, but they didn't do much. He was tired, he was torn between surrendering body and mind, and staying awake to help their guest. Charles knew he was of no use if he had a breakdown and he finally slept five hours, but he didn't feel refreshed.

When the computer search came up with the results, Charles had something inside him freeze as the information made it into his mind.

Cameron Creek. He had existed in this world. Operative word being 'had'. The boy had died ten years ago when a car had gone out of control, hitting a car that had been occupied by both parents, Cameron and his baby sister. All four had died.

Xavier shut down the computer screen, the empty hole in his stomach growing. There was no Rift in his reality.

There was no natural way to create a portal back to the parallel Erik's world.

And he had no idea if Hank could figure out how to punch an opening between fabrics that, until a few days ago, no one had known about. It had been a theoretical concept now brought to life. It needed to be studied. Tests needed to be run. They needed time.

Time that Erik didn't have.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The next shifting happened only five hours later and it knocked Erik out within fifteen minutes. Charles had nearly been unable to watch the other man scream in agony, his whole body blurring so badly he had been afraid this would be the last time.

But Erik was still with them.

- "NO!"

The echoes of the shot still reverberated in his mind. Blood blossomed. He felt more than heard the second shot as the bullet lashed toward him.

It was swatted away like a bothersome fly.

As were the next four.

Metal bent under the command of a powerful mind, flowing toward the attacker with an unrivalled speed.

There was a scream, then a gurgle, then nothing.

Unheeding of the broken man with the gun, Erik turned and knelt next to the hunched over form of Charles Xavier.

"Charles," he whispered, voice shakier than he would have wanted it to be.

His fingers touched blood. Memories flared and he shoved them violently away.

"Charles!"

Blue eyes, liquid with pain, met his. Charles was breathing hard, barely suppressing a moan. Erik tried to pry away the fingers clenched around the injured arm.

"Let me see," he said, voice cool and level while his mind screamed.

Something was wrong. It shouldn't be so hard for Charles to control the pain. He had been shot in the back and held on with such stamina…

The telepath's mind was suddenly flowing over his own and Erik stumbled back, shocked and overwhelmed.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Charles whimpered. "Can't… so hard…"

And then he saw the second injury. The knife wound. It was shallow, almost negligible, but already inflamed and red and unnatural.

::Caught me:: Charles sent, so desperately trying to control his gift. ::Laced… poison…::

And Erik understood.—-

Only when Erik was unconscious did Hank enter and inject several doses of painkillers and vitamins. He looked through the Plexiglas screen and met Xavier's eyes.

"He can't take much more of this, Professor."

- It had been the worst night ever and Erik felt raw, his mind close to shutting down, but it was the only thing that had kept the telepath from drowning in his own brain. The poison had shattered all walls, had torn down everything, and Erik had been there to bear the brunt of the tidal waves.

Charles was resting now, face pale, dark circles under his eyes, but he was gaining more control. –-

- "I'm sorry, my friend."

"Don't be. It was beyond your control." Erik placed a kiss against one temple, as if trying to soothe the lingering headache and take away the nightmarish memories.

"I tried…" Charles whispered. "But nothing… nothing worked any more… I was so gone…"

Erik held him, let him work through the shame and the self-recrimination, aware that right now whatever he wanted to say wasn't getting through.

Tears streamed down the pale face.—-

"I know, Hank." Xavier rubbed a hand over his tired face. "I know."

And they still had no idea how to send him home.

"I'm trying to find a way to stabilize his molecular structure," McCoy went on. "But I'm loathe to use him as a guinea pig."

"We might not have another choice."

The blue-furred mutant sighed softly.

Flashes of Erik's memories raced across Charles' mind and he let them, unwilling to fight them. He lived a life through the eyes of Erik Lensherr, saw memories that were similar to the ones he had seen in his Erik's mind, and he let the softer emotions concerning another Charles wash over him like a warm rain. He was a voyeur into a stranger's life, but he refused to look away.

Maybe it was all that he could do for this man – remember his life.

Xavier forcefully pushed those thoughts away. He wouldn't give up, nor would he let Hank give up.

"I'll talk to him, Hank."

About hopefully prolonging his life until they had a way to solve this situation.

The tenderness of one memory had him smile and renew his vow to find a way. He let the warmth drive him on, fall over him as if it was his own memory, and he cast one last look at their guest. Then he left the room.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Gray eyes regarded him, unreadable, and while Charles might have been able to read his mind, he didn't try to. Erik finally closed his eyes, looking defeated. Vulnerable. It was nothing Xavier had ever associated with the other man.

"If McCoy thinks it helps," he murmured.

"It's all we can do right now."

It got him a weak smile. "Until what?"

Charles folded his hands in his lap. "Until either your world finds a way to open the portal or Hank has a way to permanently stabilize your body."

"You're planning on keeping me, Charles?" There was a light, teasing not that had Xavier smile.

"We have to entertain the possibility that you might never be able to get home, Erik."

"Two of me in one reality? Might get crowded. And who is to say I won't just turn into my alternate twin?"

Charles shook his head. "You are different."

"I can't stay here, Charles." Erik ran a shaky hand through his messy hair. "I can't."

"We'll find a way. But for now you need to survive until then."

It got Charles a shrug. "Tell McCoy I'm ready to play guinea pig."

He felt flashes of old, terrifying memories and Charles wheeled forward, meeting the tired eyes.

"We're not like that, Erik."

"Caught that, hm?"

"It was hard not to."

Erik smiled humorlessly. "You sound just like the man I know in my reality." He raised his eyes to look through the Plexiglas screen where Hank had appeared. "Do it," he told the scientist.

Hank had worked through the night to finish what he hoped would give Lensherr a few hours of stability at a time or at least lessen the impact the shifting had. Connecting his patient to the machine he tried not to take too much notice of the bad condition the human body was in. Erik had closed his eyes as if he needed to concentrate on just breathing.

"It's metal, Hank," Erik whispered shakily.

"I've yet to find a way to create a machine completely out of non-metallic parts," he replied.

The chuckle alerted him to the fact that he had sounded slightly more aggressive and defensive than he had planned.

"I know. You'd be a frigging genius if you could."

He bristled, eyes flashing, then had to smile as he finally caught up to the teasing. He was a genius.

"So this works?" Erik wanted to know.

"I hope it will."

The machine hummed to life.

Nothing else happened.

Erik raised his brows.

"Unless the shift happens," McCoy explained, "it will do nothing."

"Huh. So this is where we hope for a shift?"

Hank looked a little embarrassed. "Yes and no. I'd hate for you to go through another shift if this doesn't help. But if one happens it would tell me if what I designed actually works."

"It'll help," was the quiet reply.

Hank met the weary gray eyes, then dredged up a smile. "I'm flattered by your confidence in me."

Erik chuckled. "Grasping straws."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Charles knew he was spending a lot of time with their guest, but it was like a drug he couldn't shake. He was looking at Erik Lensherr and he saw what Magneto had once been, and what somewhere inside the man he had once called a friend still existed. He knew he had made a mistake and looking at their guest it was like rubbing it in.

"You're tearing yourself apart, Charles."

The quiet words startled him and he looked up from the game of chess they were playing. So far half a day had passed and no new shifts had occurred. Erik didn't look that much stronger, but he was also not growing weaker.

"You did the best you could do. Under the circumstances."

"You can't ever know that."

"Neither can you." Erik smiled darkly. "I know myself. And your parallel self. You're very much like that Charles. He is prone to beating himself up over some things, too. You two are good at projecting the mature, grown-up and controlled professor, but underneath there's the guilt and remorse."

Charles saw the laughter in the other man's eyes, heard it in his voice. He smiled at that.

"Maybe."

"Definitely." Erik moved his pawn and leaned back, waiting for Xavier's next move.

It would have been too much to ask for the first twenty-four hours to be a good sign and develop hope.

Twenty-four hours was all Erik was given before the shift hit him. It was the most violent Charles had ever witnessed and he was in the middle of it. Erik's screams were cut off when his mind finally succumbed to the strain and shut down, his body crashing violently. Hank's machine was in ruins. Charles was pulling himself up with the help of his tipped-over chair, reaching for the other mutant.

His fingers wrapped around one wrist and the staccato pulse hammered against his skin.

- Charles lay underneath him, naked, looking sated and calm. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips displaying a warm smile.

"Got it out of your system?" Erik asked with a lazy expression. He leaned down and kissed him. "You are insatiable."

"Look who's talking."

"I'm just feeding a need."

Charles laughed. "Right. So selfless. You do know that I'm a telepath."

Erik nuzzled his neck. "Never slipped my mind."

Xavier sighed softly, burying one hand in the tousled head. –-

- The thunderstorm had stopped them from continuing their little roadtrip and they had sought shelter in a small motel that had seen better days. The room was clean, though. A violent clap of thunder rattled the windows and Charles pulled the curtains closed. Rain beat hard against the panes and the parking lot looked flooded.

"So much for that idea," Erik said, coming out of the bathroom.

He was toweling his hair and had changed into dry clothes. Charles admired the long, lean lines in the light gray track suit. For some reason Erik preferred wearing black but changed into the gray suit for work-outs.

"If the weather lets up we can continue tomorrow."

"If. Forecast looks like the Flood is coming."

"I think we can entertain ourselves."

The smirk was wide and almost dirty. "You have a one-track mind, Professor."

"And you only hear what you want to hear, my friend."

"Oh, I can very well read between the lines." –-

Charles smiled dimly at the happiness he felt at the memories, at how easy and familiar it all was. He pulled himself closer, willing the other mind to calm down, to heal.

The door was flung open and Hank came in, followed by Alex and Sean. All three looked almost frantic.

"I'm fine," Charles told them.

- "You're not."

Deft fingers palpated his ribs.

"Erik, I'm perfectly fine."

A wince betrayed the words and Erik scowled.

"You had to go and talk to the kid alone!"

"He was scared."

Of Erik. Of too many people. Of being cornered. So Charles had ventured out alone and he had paid for it with bruises and bumps and a shallow cut on his hand.

"And now he's off running again. What were you thinking, Charles?"

Anger coursed through him. Anger at his lover for being so dense and so naïve to believe he could handle this alone.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

He exhaled softly. "You once told me I'm not alone. You aren't either. We're a team."

Charles gave him a rueful smile. "I seem to have forgotten."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Never again."

"No. Never again." –-

Hank helped Xavier back into the chair while Alex and Sean cleared away the remnants of the machine.

Erik hadn't moved at all.

"I think this needs treatment, Professor."

Hank's fingers had blood on them and only now became Charles aware of the fact that something had grazed his neck.

"Erik first," he decided.

He could wait. Erik couldn't. The machine had only helped for such a brief time and the last episode had been such fiercely violent, he feared the next might kill him.

Reaching out with his mind he ignored the teasing memories, all interesting and fascinating, and he brushed over the stressed-out mind.

::Erik, please hold on, my friend::

tbc...  
> <p>


	10. Chapter 10

It took longer for him to wake this time and when Erik finally opened his eyes, his disorientation was fuel for further worry. They had removed all metal objects from the room and Charles was seated in a wheelchair made only of plastic parts. He needed help pushing it, but that was a minor matter.

"…sorry…"

He leaned forward, touched one limp hand. "Erik?"

"…sorry… didn't mean… to… hurt…"

The cut at his neck. Charles smiled at the weak man. "Not your fault."

"…so the machine… failed?"

"Hank is busy rebuilding it. He'll find a way."

Erik's eyes slid shut.

::Erik!::

A breathy laugh was the answer. "…finally…made it… into my… head…?"

::I believe one of me is always there already. And for now you are very much aligned with this world, Erik::

So Charles could read him at his leisure. It was a stray thought Xavier picked up.

::No. I respect your privacy. I couldn't help seeing the other memories. They just came. Right now you're safe from me::

The pale gray slits looking at him were unnerving, despite the fact that Erik was clinging to consciousness with all he had. The power in those eyes was still strong, though…

::Get some rest, my friend::

"…doubtful it helps…"

But he closed his eyes and his breathing evened out after a while.

Charles sat for a long time, just watching Erik sleep.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

When the portal detector went off again, Hank froze in place, yellow eyes widening. He stared at his gizmo in disbelief for a second, then grabbed it and linked it to his computer station. A map of the manor and grounds popped up and a red dot appeared.

"Professor!" he called into the communicator.

They had another visitor.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Charles looked at the tall, slender woman, taking in her pale skin, the almost white hair that fell to nearly her lower back, and the black eyes. She was dressed in black pants, black tank-top, a blood-red leather jacket, and knee-high boots. Another woman stood next to her, about a head smaller, the complete opposite in looks and bearing. Auburn hair, green eyes, blue jeans, jeans jacket over a white t-shirt.

"Welcome to the Xavier Institute," Charles greeted them calmly.

The tall woman looked him up and down, a small frown marring her smooth skin.

"I believe you know me from where you come from."

"Charles Xavier." The white-haired woman's voice was cool, clipped. "My name is Reaper."

"Hayes," the other woman offered non-chalantly.

"We're looking for a friend."

Charles nodded. "Erik was found by some of my students. He came here injured."

Reaper looked slightly alarmed.

"And since you used the portal as well, I hope you have a way back for all of you?" Hank spoke up for the first time.

"Of course," was the cool reply.

"Because this world isn't too happy about visitors. Erik has gone through some very violent shifts."

Reaper's eyes narrowed. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Safe."

"I'll decide that for myself."

Hayes shot her a quizzical look, but the other woman ignored her.

"Where. Is. He?"

Whatever her powers were, Charles felt no immediate danger for their persons. She was worried, which he understood, and while he had no idea what relationship she had to Erik, he would find out.

"He came here injured out of a fight. How can we be sure you aren't the ones…?" Hank started.

Reaper glared at him.

Charles raised a hand. "He mentioned a young man able to create rifts."

Hayes snorted. "Yeah, him. We finally managed to find him. Quick runner."

A large dog, as big as a wolfhound but looking more like a Border Collie trotted toward them and stopped beside Reaper. She briefly scratched one ear. The dog eyed Charles and Hank, but it didn't move.

"Erik is our team leader," Reaper bit out. "We came here to get him back. You either show me where he is or I'll take this house apart room by room."

"Not necessary." Charles moved the wheelchair back. "I believe you."

Because while they were from another dimension, the brief outburst had shifted emotions across. It was strange and he felt not much, just worry and fear and the need to see Erik.

He trusted them.

Reaper waited for him to take the lead and he did. Hayes followed, looking curiously around, smiling widely at the kids who were peeking through the banisters to catch a glimpse of their visitors.

The elevator doors closed and lowered them into the underground levels of the Westchester manor.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Reaper's eyes turned a shade of yellow when she looked through the Plexiglas screen into the cell/guest room.

"This is how you treat an injured guest?" she asked, voice reflecting the fury racing through her system.

She turned to look at Xavier. He met her outraged eyes calmly.

"Erik asked to be locked up after his powers ran out of control throughout the last shift. He wrecked Hank's lab and nearly killed him."

Reaper's nostril's flared, a crackle was in the air, but whatever she was and could do – Charles couldn't catch an idea so far – she had it under control.

"Let me see him."

Hayes had been silent, watching everything attentively, and Charles found he sometimes forgot she was there. It was as if she was present physically, but she slipped from another's mind completely. He suspected it was part of her ability and he found it intriguing.

"I'll have to ask you to remove all metal from your body," Hank spoke up.

The now more yellow eyes turned on him. "Fine!"

And with that Reaper started to strip until she was down to her underwear. She threw the last piece of clothing, her shirt, at McCoy, who caught it with a wide-eyed expression of near-panic.

"No wires," she snapped and gestured at the bra. "No implants. No metal in my bones. Satisfied? Or do you want to scan me, Doctor?"

Hank stared and Xavier hid a smile.

Reaper turned abruptly and stalked toward the door, shooting McCoy a challenging look. He hurried to open it after a nod from Charles, then she slipped inside.

"Quite a character," Charles remarked.

"Uh," Hank stuttered.

"She's protective of Erik," Hayes spoke up, startling McCoy who had apparently already ignored her presence once more. She caught Charles' raised brows and smiled. "Big sister complex. Or something like it. Can't say. You better not fire her up any more, doc, 'cause she can get nasty."

"And this was friendly?" Hank asked.

"Best she can do without flaying a person."

Xavier watched the severely underdressed mutant walk over to Erik and kneel down at his side.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Reaper had been born different. Right from the very first day on this earth she had been set apart from others in her town. A native of Labrador, her town had been at the edge of civilization and those who made a living in the hostile environment were deeply spiritual and in tune with Mother Nature. In a town that consisted of roughly one hundred inhabitants in summer and only a third of that population in winter, her birth and difference had spread quickly.

Nothing had been made of it. White hair, black eyes, skin that wouldn't tan… but a normal child otherwise. She had gone to school, she had laughed and cried, lived and learned, and her parents had been proud.

That she had abilities beyond what anyone would call normal had shown throughout puberty. They had later shaped her wish to go into a medical profession. At her young age she hadn't understood, but two of the town's elders, both natives of Labrador, had taught her control.

Because Reaper could take energy from a living organism. All of it or small parts, just enough to weaken the subject. She could, in turn, also give energy to heal or help a healing. It was a fine line that needed extensive training, and while the elders had helped, it hadn't been until she had met Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr that she had truly developed into the young woman she was today.

Walking over to the prone man who meant so much to her, she knelt down and touched one chalky white cheek.

"Erik?" she said calmly.

The pale gray eyes opened, narrowed, took in her near-naked state, then a weak smirk crossed his lips. "Well, hello to you, too."

She smiled, aware she was almost naked. Back when she had first met Erik she had developed a light crush on the tall, dark and handsome mutant who was older than her. Erik had been impressive and the danger had thrilled her. Reaper had quickly discovered that Erik was already taken and that a crush was just a crush. She loved him like a brother and as her team leader he had her complete and unquestioning loyalty.

"How did you get here?" he wanted to know, fighting to stay awake.

"Long story. We caught Rift, Charles explained that we weren't after him because of any petty crimes he committed, and Hank figured out a way to stabilize his inter-dimensional portals for us to go through. And he stabilized us, too. It's an injection that lasts for a while. He's currently working on something better than a needle."

"Cool." His eyes slid shut.

She gently patted the cheek, watching his eyes flutter open again.

"Erik."

"Still here."

"Not that I'd notice," she snapped, then reigned herself in. "May I?"

He knew what she was asking and he nodded. A hand was pressed onto his chest and he felt her power extend, focused on that one point of contact.

Reaper's face twisted in misgiving and worry.

"You're in no condition to travel, Erik. I need to get you well enough to survive the portal."

"Hn."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes. Do it. I'll be fine."

She smiled dimly, her eyes shifting to blue. "I know you will be."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

From outside, Charles watched in amazement as something that looked like a silky web made of energy rise out of Reaper's hair. Thin lines, pouring out of the tips, glinting with energy. They twisted in an invisible wind, then wove themselves into one strand that, despite consisting of so many individual ones, looked barely thicker than a hair. The strand flicked toward Erik, then attached itself and… became close to invisible.

Hank was staring in amazement. For a second he even forgot his scanners, then hurriedly took readings.

"She can heal to a degree," Hayes told the two surprised men. "She's like a living battery to jump-start another organism."

Erik's eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out. Reaper straightened and turned away from her patient, fixing the watchers with a hard look. She left the room, the almost invisible extension glinting in the artificial light. She grabbed her clothes and slid into them. Xavier was intrigued that the extension didn't seem to be bothered by it, nor did Reaper seem to feel anything that touched the energy line.

"This will only help his body fight off another shift, as well as launch the healing process," she answered Charles' unspoken question. "He still needs an injection with the stabilizing agent."

She held out a hand and Hayes handed her a syringe. Hank blinked. Even Charles hadn't been aware of the young woman carrying it. It was hard to really keep track of her, to describe her in his mind, and he knew it was her mutation.

Reaper nodded once, then walked back into the room and carefully injected the yellowish liquid into Erik's veins.

"He'll need more than one. I'll know when it's time."

Charles was impressed by her no-nonsense attitude. He was intrigued by her mutation, as well as Hayes'. And from the way she was meeting his eyes, Reaper wasn't about to make a run for it. She was here to stay.

"Can I invite you to a cup of tea?" Charles offered cordially, keeping his voice calm and friendly.

Black eyes covered by a sheen of blue held his, then she nodded.

Hayes stayed behind, as did Hank, who was ignoring her again, and Xavier found himself once again intrigued by the young woman. But for now he had different questions he wanted answers to.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The students they had met on their way to Charles' study had tried not to stare too much at their other-dimensional visitor. They were used to people who looked physically different, but word had spread quickly that not only was a parallel Erik Lensherr at the manor, now there were other mutants, too. The children were curious.

Reaper turned away from the windows and settled herself in an armchair. Charles had picked up on some of her emotions, but nothing was clear. She was still more readable than Erik, unless he had gone through a shift. Mere glimpses compared to what he was used to reading. Charles wondered if the stabilizing agent helped in also making their visitors' minds more accessible for him.

"I can see you have a million questions, Professor." Reaper gave him a calculating look. "I'm willing to answer them to a degree if it helps you to trust us."

Charles smiled. "I already trust you."

Dark, delicate brows rose. "Really?"

"I can't read you, Reaper. I can't see your thoughts. I wouldn't intrude like that in any way. I caught some… strays, though."

She frowned a little. "Because we're from another dimension?"

"Yes. The only times I caught flashes were after Erik's violent shifts. The first time it happened told me enough that I know he's not the man in your world that he is in mine."

Another frown. "And the second time?"

She was sharp. She listened. She heard between the lines.

"Let's say I know enough to extend my trust. I know he needs to go home. I know my parallel self needs him."

She silently watched him like an eagle. "What happened to you?" she finally asked.

Charles wasn't immediately clear what she meant. The wheelchair? Magneto? Maybe both? He sipped at his tea, then set down the cup.

"Our worlds have apparently drifted apart after Cuba," the telepath answered carefully.

"I wasn't there," she told him when he stopped for a second.

Xavier gave a nod. He hadn't seen her in Erik's memories of the time. Reaper listened to his side of the story, the eyes shifting from blue to blue-green. Finally she leaned back and shook her head.

"One wrong word," was all she said.

"It was more than one word, Reaper. It was a difference of opinion. I failed to read his emotions; I failed to see what needed to be seen, listen to his voice instead of trying to get into his mind."

"It was more, Professor."

He shook his head.

"It was. I've known Charles and Erik for three years. They fight, have their differences, but they are good together. They fit like gloves. You… well, the Charles in my world and Erik, you complement each other in every way. You know as well as I do that Erik Lensherr is a powerful and very dangerous man. He's a weapon and I know he was trained by the most ruthless of men. I know that he can be a cold-blooded killer. I also know that this is held in check by you. You make him human. The Charles I know tends to be a bit too idealistic sometimes, but he's just as powerful and he protects his students with every ounce of power he has, political, telepathic or otherwise. You need each other and there is nothing, nothing at all, that has managed to separate you."

Charles was silent, feeling the old pain of before, of a loss of a friend and brother.

"I blamed him."

She shrugged. "It was his fault, Professor."

"In your world, I wasn't… paralyzed."

"It would make no differences."

"Erik loves my parallel self," Xavier stated.

"Yes." The black eyes were steady as they met his own blue ones.

Charles played with the empty cup.

"Is it so outrageous?" Reaper wanted to know.

"No," he answered quietly.

"Have you ever felt something for Erik?" she asked.

Had he? Could he be sure that the emotions back then had been that of a friend, a brother, or more? No, he couldn't. And ever since they had parted ways, Charles hadn't dwelled on it much. There was a lot of regret, a lot of betrayal and pain, but he had never lingered on what might have been.

Reaper nodded at his silence.

The door opened and Charles was distracted from his thoughts by the brief glint of the extension. He mostly forgot it because it was near-invisible.

Havoc gave him an apologetic look. "Uhm, Professor…"

The auburn dog from before pushed past him and walked over to Reaper, giving her a long, hard look.

"Thank you, Alex," Charles only said, nodding at the younger man that it was okay.

Havoc shrugged and, with a last look, closed the door again. The dog eyed him.

"Professor, this is Blu. He's part of Erik's team."

"Shape shifter?"

Reaper smiled. "Yes. He prefers his animal forms, though."

Blu huffed.

"He'll return to our reality to give them an update on what happened here. Erik's condition is serious enough that it might be a few days until we can safely get him back." She glanced at Blu. "Tell him not to worry. And should he come here, I'll kick his skinny ass back home."

Blu snorted and stood, trotting over to the door. He easily opened it, pushing down the handle, and left.

"Not a man of many words," Xavier remarks, amused at her words about his parallel self.

"No, not really. As I said, he prefers his animal forms, and that's no understatement."

"The connection you have initiated with Erik…" Xavier began.

"A feeding line. It's to supply him with the energy he needs," she simply said. "It doesn't bother me. You can walk through the line and it won't be disrupted." Reaper smiled at his expression. "Hank ran a whole battery of tests back when I first arrived. Nothing can detach this. I can control it. It's an extension of me, of my energies."

"You are able to keep an eye on him, scan him?" Charles hazarded a guess.

"Very good, Professor," she lauded. "Yes, I'm very much aware of his condition. I've learned enough about my gift to handle one patient."

"Especially one you know."

"Yes."

"Going by your code-name, healing isn't your only ability," Xavier went on, keeping his voice non-judgmental.

"There is always another side to one power, Professor. You taught me that. I can take a life if I want to, draw all the energy from an organism. But I prefer to heal. I want to be a doctor one day. I can do more than just supply energy, I know it. I work on understanding who I am and what I can do."

Charles had to smile. "Not much difference between our worlds there, then."

"Probably not. The school is open to every mutant who wants help or just a place to find shelter and kindred spirits."

"How many are there?"

"Enough," was her vague answer.

He didn't press on.

"Thank you for your openness, Reaper."

"I believe it's necessary to get us home. All of us, including Erik."

She wouldn't leave without him. None of them would.

"You can stay here as long as you need to. None of you are in danger here."

It was the truth. Nothing but the truth.

Reaper's black eyes reflected a smile, but her face remained blank otherwise. She rose gracefully.

"Thank you, Professor. Now I need to check on my patient in person."

With that she was gone.

Charles remained behind, thoughtful eyes on the closed door.

tbc... 


	11. Chapter 11

Blu crossed through the portal with barely a problem. He shook himself when he arrived on the other side. It itched. Then he trotted toward the waiting group of mutants and shifted shape.

"He's alive," he said, not the least bit concerned with his nudity. He never had been.  
>Relief shone in Charles' eyes and he seemed to sag a little as tension left his body.<p>

"Reaper says he's not strong enough to make it safely through the portal. The injuries he sustained while chasing Rift didn't heal." He added a brief explanation as to what had occurred in the other reality.

"How long?" Charles demanded tightly, the tension coming back.

"A few more days. She's slowly feeding him energy."

Hank came over and handed him a satchel. "These are several more doses of the stabilizer. Tell Reaper to inject him regularly, let his body acquire some resistance. All three of you are healthy and fit. You can work with one dose for your return. He needs more if he's that badly hurt."

Charles balled his hands into fists. "I'm coming, too."

Blu faced him levelly, the hazel eyes serious and firm. "No, Professor. We'll handle it."

"I can help!" he insisted.

"Professor, please. You know we'll take care of him. He needs you here."

Raven put a hand on her brother's arm and squeezed it gently. "Let them deal with it, Charles. You know there is nothing you can do. Erik's alive, he's being helped, and he'll be home soon."

Xavier exhaled sharply. Blu could smell how badly he wanted to be with his partner and he understood it, but it was an unnecessary risk. And there was the fact that another Charles Xavier, who hadn't been so lucky back then, was also there. He doubted that meeting his uninjured double, a man who could walk, would help the parallel Xavier in the long run.

Like Reaper and Hayes, Blu would do everything to get Erik home. They were his team.

"Professor?"

"Go," Xavier only said. Defeat and exhaustion swung in his voice.

Blu met the expressive eyes of a man he respected greatly. "You have my word, Professor."

Charles gave him a gentle smile. "Thank you."

So he shifted back to dog form and went.

Charles sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands. Raven knelt before him and hugged him.

"He'll be fine. His team is with him. You know Reaper would go through Hell and back to protect Erik. She loves him, too."

Charles nodded, very much aware of the affection the young woman had for his partner. She might be younger, but her Big Sister came through now and then. Especially when Erik was hurt, which happened now and then.

Raven forced him to look her in the eyes. "Charles, he'll be okay. They'll bring him home."

He smiled wanly, then let her hug him again, holding on to the younger mutant. It felt good, but he wouldn't feel better until Erik was home. The void in his head was hard to bear.

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The progress Erik made couldn't be overlooked. Within six hours after Reaper's healing connection he was on his feet. A bit unsteady, but determined to be up. Hank had watched her inject their patient with another dose of stabilizer and only when Reaper was satisfied was Erik allowed to leave his guest room.

The students at the school were still wary, but by now they knew that this man wasn't Magneto and that the new-arrivals were from another world, too. Still, a distance was kept, which suited Erik just fine. The faint headache and his general weakness made him twitchy. Now and then he found himself logging onto a particular object and it moved a fraction of an inch before he caught himself. A box of tacks had ended up buried in expensive wooden paneling and paper-clips had been thrown all over the room.

It angered Erik that he missed so much of his control, but he also knew he was lucky to at least have this much already.

x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x

"You have a remarkable team," Charles told him.

They were outside on the terrace, Erik enjoying the sun. His complexion had turned from deathly white to almost healthy.

"Reaper's a bit direct and bossy, Blu rarely talks more than ten words a day, and Hayes…" Erik shrugged.

"She can remove herself from another's perception?"

It got Xavier a grin. "In a way. Charles found her when the FBI was about to kick her ass into jail over a string of white collar crime. She was good, but she got cocky and was caught. I'm sure she could have charmed herself out of a sentence anyway. She's a low level empath, coupled with what you already discovered: she can remove herself from your perception. One minute you know she was there, the next you had never seen her. It's how she worked all those jobs. If she sets her mind to it, she can even alter your perception of what she looks like."

"Impressive."

"To a degree. If she runs a con too long she has trouble maintaining her presence. She might end up being completely imperceptible, which isn't as much fun as you'd think."

Erik took the glass in front of him, enjoying the cool soft drink. He hated the slight tremor in his hands. It showed just how weak he was and he hated showing weakness. Reaper had vetoed any form of alcohol. Behind him, the extension line glinted now and then.

"Blu we found in Australia. For him it wasn't so much learning about shifting into animal forms than learning how to be human. He's still learning, too. His shifts are currently limited by body mass. He can't go any bigger or smaller than his actual mass is. Charles thinks in time he can overcome that, too."

"They are students and on your team?"

"They're all over twenty-one and can make their own decisions whether or not to come with me when I talk to a mutant," was the slightly more sharp reply. "All our students have the option. It happens that those three tend to come along more often."

Charles smiled apologetically.

They continued to talk, about things that came to mind, about seemingly unimportant tidbits, but it felt good. It felt like… like talking to the man who had become Magneto. Charles smiled wistfully, then found himself fixed by knowing gray eyes.

"I'm sorry," the dark-haired man said softly.

"Don't be. It isn't your fault. Things went differently here. In a way I'm happy to know that somewhere we had a chance."

Erik looked neutrally at him, then nodded. Charles knew he had revealed something, a tiny, tiny hope and a dream that had frozen, shriveled and died. Maybe there had been something; maybe it had been wishful thinking, brought on by the heat of the battle and the need to survive.

He didn't know.

Reaching into his pocket he took out something he had kept on his person since the moment Erik had voluntarily gone into the plastic prison.

The bullet.

Erik looked at it. It didn't move. Charles waited, then it rose slowly and floated into Erik's hand. He closed his hand around it, looking at the telepath.

"Thank you." For keeping it safe.

"It's yours." Charles had his own.

Erik put it into his pocket, evading the sharp eyes.

"Would you care of a game of chess?" Charles offered, trying to get them onto a less emotional track.

"Think you can beat me now I'm a few marbles short?"

Xavier nearly laughed. "Beating you is never easy, Erik."

"Playing fair?"

"I always play fair."

It got him a knowing smirk, but Erik agreed to a game.

It turned out to be three.

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Reaper found her team leader alone on the stone terrace that gave a good view of the manor grounds. She took in the too lean look that spoke of too much energy expended and not enough replaced by food. She could feel his need to rest and recover through what the Professor had first called a feeding line when he had seen her gift. It was still present, it gave her the ability to supply him with small doses of healing energy, but without a safe environment she wouldn't take it to the next level. If she put her mind and her body to it, she could close those terrible wound and replenish what he had lost. But this wasn't a safe place. She couldn't risk it.

Closing her fingers around the syringe with the next dose of the stabilizer drug she approached Erik, announcing her presence in advance. She knew he was a deadly man and there was enough metal around him to do some serious damage.

"Another?" Erik asked, giving her a tired look.

"This one, one tomorrow, and then you should be stable enough to safely go through the portal. Blu has been going back and forth and Hank agrees."

Erik nodded. Keeping the portal open for so long was dangerous. Hank had had to close it throughout the past days for a while to minimize the risk of anything permanent happening to either world. He was by now quite adept at opening and locking the gate between realities and the last time Blu had come through he had been wearing a dog collar. It had been endless fun for Hayes. Blu had handed over three clunky looking wrist bands. Not fashion accessories; rift bands. It allowed them to open the portal on their own from this side.

Now Reaper held out a wrist band for Erik.

"I thought I wasn't ready."

"You aren't. I trust you to follow medical advice and not kill yourself because you can't wait any longer."

Erik smiled briefly. "I know the risks, Reaper. I have someone waiting for me. I'm not going to do anything foolish."

Her black eyes narrowed and she snorted. "Coming from you, the last statement is a lie." Then she turned and walked back into the house.

Erik chuckled. He clipped the band around his wrist, looking at the dark display. He could feel the different metals used, could tell apart every molecule, and it made him smile. He was getting better in leaps. And he would keep his promise. Charles was on the other side of the dimensional gate and getting there in one piece, alive, was his goal. He trusted Reaper to know when he was ready.

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It took him another day to approach Charles Xavier, who was never far away. Erik was slightly amused by how this version of the man he knew hovered just like his own Charles Xavier. For different reasons, for sure, but he hovered.

::Mother-hen::, he thought loudly, noting with satisfaction that the other man blushed.

Walking up to the seated man he refused to show how shaky his legs were, how much he really wanted to sit down as well.

"Please take a seat," Charles said, catching more than he should without reading Erik.

Erik sat down, leaning back. "I'd like to ask a favor," he addressed Charles.

Xavier raised his brows.

"I'd like to use your training facilities."

Charles looked surprised. "For what reason?"

"See how this affected my abilities. You can lock everything down, pull up whatever safety measures you think are fitting. I don't care. This is just a test. I'm not about to rip your home apart, Charles."

It got him a chuckle. "I know that, Erik."

"Been deep enough?"

The blue eyes reflected the answer. He had been deeper than Erik was comfortable with, knew things no one else did aside from his Charles, but this was another version of the man he loved and protected and needed, and he had shown that he could be trusted. As far as Erik trusted anyone who wasn't his partner.

"Do you think it wise to strain your powers already?"

"If not now, when? I need to know, Charles."

So Xavier agreed.


	12. Chapter 12

  
>Reaper hadn't been pleased and it showed in her stony expression, but she stood at the observation window, arms crossed in front of her chest, black eyes on the room below. Charles was next to her. All around them the screens were showing the video feed from the training room, which had been set up for a mutant with Erik's gifts.<p>"Reaper, don't start feeding, okay?" Erik could be heard over the comm. "Or cut the line."<p>

She snorted. "You wish, Lensherr. But I'll keep myself from giving you more energy than you should have right now."

"Thanks."

Below, Erik inhaled deeply, released the breath as if to steady himself, then his eyes fixed on the assorted metal objects that had been left for him to work with.

They rose. One by one, nails, screws, tools, scrap metal, springs, wires. The heavier weights from the work-out room came next, just lifting to positions high above the ground. Screws and nails began to circle them.

An old car that was used for various training exercises, the size of a van, shivered.  
>Reaper's eyes never wavered.<p>

Charles watched tensely.

Erik was coordinating the orbits and flight paths of everything with a look of severe concentration. Charles noticed a line of strain forming between his eyes.

The van moved.

Rose.

A few weights dipped, but one gesture from Erik had them rise again, joining the rest. The van tumbled around its own axis and finally came to rest with its blown tires against the ceiling.  
>A smile crossed the tense features of the powerful mutant. His fingers moved minutely and the car drove slowly across the slightly vaulted ceiling.<p>

"Show-off," Reaper muttered, but she sounded just as tense as Erik looked.

Charles couldn't tear his eyes away from the spectacle below as Erik stacked the weights, the screws dancing in a miniature tornado across the room, joined by the nails. He suddenly flung his left hand outward and the metal bolts accelerated, searing across the length of the room, describing a sharp arc, then riddling the van with holes, tearing into metal.

Sweat rolled down Erik's face, but he didn't stop.

Charles was mesmerized by the display of power, by how elegant it all looked and how much it showed of the progress this man had made.

"Wow," Havoc whispered.

He had slipped into the room, wide eyes on the show below. Some of the other students were peeking as well. Charles saw Alison, a slender blond girl who could transform sound into light, leaning forward. Hayes was lounging in one corner, grinning. She looked proud. Blu sat next to Mika, a mutant with the ability to breathe under water and who had joined just recently.

The van fell from the ceiling, deftly caught by Erik's abilities, and guided back to its original position. Now with a few more holes. The two tornados approached each other and joined, the nails and screws twisting around each other and actually twining together. One screw with one nail wrapped around it. Then they shot in a screeching line through the training room, shattering the last remaining window of the van and tearing it apart. A shower of tiny metal shards fell to the ground like metal hail, and the weights settled.

Erik looked exhausted. His face was sweat-streaked and he was trembling, but the gleam of triumph in his eyes chased away the shadows of the strain he had been under. And the wide smile of happiness was hard to miss, too.

"Idiot," Reaper muttered.

He had overdone it, but somehow Charles understood.

Erik looked up, grinning even more, meeting the blue eyes of the telepath. Charles was suddenly keenly aware of the other man, of his mind, and it was a shock to feel the triumph and happiness and satisfaction. He felt himself smile back.

::Well done:: he projected. He had no idea if he had reached the other man, but the sudden wink told him he had.

Reaper pushed past the astounded children, expression neutral.

"Don't mind her. She's in nurse mode," Hayes commented, then left as well.

Yes, Erik had done very well. Better than he had thought. And it told him once again that this man was just as powerful as Magneto, just as adept, but with so many differences.

Charles met the other mutant as he stepped out of the room, hair damp, wiping his sweaty face.

"Looks like your abilities didn't suffer, Erik."

It got him another brilliant smile. "Thank you for giving me the chance."

"How could I deny it?"

Erik's eyes were unreadable and the moment when his mind had been accessible was gone. "With my history here, you could have said no."

"You're not Magneto."

"And you've been in my mind enough to know."

Charles inclined his head. He couldn't apologize for it because there had been no way to prevent seeing what he had seen, feeling emotions from someone else.

"Thanks, Charles. I mean it."

"You're very welcome, my friend."

Both men were aware of the impact of the words, but Erik let it slip. The high he was one wasn't diminished by his exhaustion and Charles felt an answering happiness inside him.

He would enjoy this visit into a past he would never be able to shake as long as it lasted.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Erik Lensherr was getting itchy. He wanted to leave, he wanted to get home to his own world, his own Charles, and it showed in his restlessness. Reaper shot him exasperated looks and even Charles was unable to distract him anymore.

"I appreciate the effort, but I'm ready," the taller mutant said, forfeiting his game of chess by tipping his king.

Charles regarded him closely. "There is no hurry, Erik. You are welcome here."

The students at the school had accepted his presence and Erik could move freely around. He had spent some time reading up on the history of this world, but even that didn't hold that much interest any more.

"I know. And thanks. But I want to go home. I don't belong here, Charles. Staying here means just as much pain for you."

Gray eyes met blue, seeing more than the telepath wanted. Charles averted his eyes.

"Maybe it's atonement, too."

"You made no mistake," Erik said sharply, face hardening. "He did. I know. I was there, a breath away from doing the same."

Charles played with the fallen king. "I'll miss our games, Erik."

He smiled, eyes softening a little. "Yeah. Maybe I'll visit."

It got him a little laugh. Charles placed the king back onto the board. It was time to say good-bye, to sever the ties he had started to create, and to return to his own life.

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By mid-morning the next day, travel arrangements had been complete. Hayes and Blu had already gone back to their world and only Reaper remained, a scowl on her pale features as she watched her patient. Erik might no longer be shifting, but his body and mind had gone through a lot and he was susceptible to the portal's powers. Even a feeding line couldn't prevent him from suffering mirror effects to a shift.

Hank had agreed that the portal was dangerous for someone who had only stabilized in the last few days and who wasn't physically completely healed.

But Erik was adamant. He wanted to go home.

"Thank you again, Charles. For everything." Erik held out a hand. Charles took it, shaking it firmly.

"It was an honor meeting you, Erik."

He had no words, but he opened his mind, wishing for the telepath to read it. With a small smile Charles nodded.

Message received.

Reaper waited for him, face neutral.

"Let's go," Erik only said.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Going through the portal almost tore him apart. At least it felt like every molecule was ripped apart, every atom exploded in mind-numbing agony, and when he finally caught a coherent thought again, the light was blinding. Erik stumbled, his legs refusing to carry him, then everything blacked out.

Dimly he was aware of a warm brush of a well-known mind against his, his name spoken by a familiar voice, then nothing at all.

Charles was barely fast enough to catch the crumbling man. His mind reached out, embracing Erik fiercely, just like he held on to him physically. Pale, shivering, one arm bandaged and strapped to his body, Erik Lensherr looked far from the self-assured, hard and sometimes deadly cold man he liked to project. Charles knew that underneath that granite exterior was more. There was warmth and laughter and humor and need and so much more. Right now there was nothing but pain and confusion, and he soothed the trembling mind.

::You're home. You're back::

He stroked over the unruly dark hair, catching Erik's flailing mind in a warm net.

::Home:: he repeated.

Charles noticed the strong feeding line Reaper had anchored in Erik and he nodded at the tall woman as she stood silently next to the pair, waiting, giving Charles the necessary time.

"He'll be fine, Professor," she finally said.

"Thank you. Thank you, Reaper."

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The medical facilities were state-of-the-art, by far more advanced than anything the world knew. Hank was decades ahead of his time and he knew it. Everything down here would make a surgeon weep. Charles walked through the silent hallway to the door that automatically opened for him and went inside. The cool, gray and white interior of the medical wing was supposed to be calming. Erik had once complained that it was an eye-sore.

Reaper had explained to Charles that the portal energy was similar to the shift and Erik hadn't really recovered from that. Regular inter-dimensional travel wasn't exactly something the mutant should take up on a regular basis. At least until he had shaken off all the ill effects.

::Welcome home, Erik::

Erik looked into the too bright blue eyes in a pale, exhausted face. He was propped up in a bed, wearing a surgical gown, and Hank had attached an IV to one hand. The bed itself was enough to monitor his bodily functions.

::You look like shit:: he thought.

Charles gave a bubble of laughter, running a shaky hand through the tousled head. Erik reached up and his good hand ghosted over one stubbled cheek.

"Like shit, Charles."

::You were gone. I had to pick up your slack::

Erik smiled and his eyes slid shut. He finally gave in to his need to rest. Charles let his head sink forward, forehead against the clean sheet.

It was how he fell asleep.

It was how Hank and Reaper found him.

Both exchanged brief looks, then left silently once more.

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>tbc...<p>

Nope, not yet done! And you'll find out about the Magneto from the parallel verse, too!  
> <p>


	13. Chapter 13

He had refused to stay in the medical wing and he had refused to be monitored in a private room. Hank had been adamant that he needed to be under watchful eyes; Erik had given him one dark look and walked out the door.

Well, not so much walked. It was more of a battle of wills, his will against his body's will to shut down at the earliest possible moment to rest. Erik had won, but it had been a close call.

He had doggedly made his way to his own room, into his own bed, which happened to be Charles' bed, too. The telepath regarded his lover from sharp eyes, taking in every bruise, every scrape, every bump. Reaper had healed her team leader enough to get him safely through the portal, but even she had her limits as to what she could do safely without endangering herself. Weakening her own energies was not advisable while in a potentially dangerous situation or without drawing energy from somewhere else, which meant killing something if things got ugly. She had stabilized him and brought him home; the rest was now up to Erik himself.

The man in question was currently – finally! - sleeping. He had actually crashed completely once he had been here, in the privacy of their room. Hank had given him a battery of shots and medication. The headwound had closed and didn't need bandages, but the injuries to his hand and arm were extensive enough to require some downtime. The limb was swathed in bandages, immobilizing the wrist and fingers, and Charles knew the pain was still there. Erik refused to be doped up by painkillers. He refused to be vulnerable, despite knowing he was safe here; with him.

And Erik was alive. He exhaled slowly, trying to chase away the memories of fear and loss and the terror that Rift might have pushed his partner somewhere they could never retrieve him. When panicked, the youngster, while able to open small portals for himself, tended to open rifts into other dimensions to push his enemies. It was an unconscious action and it was one that had killed some people already. Because the other world would try to rid itself of the visitor that had been forced upon it.

Like Erik.

But Erik was safe. Safe and alive and whole.

His mind was firmly anchored in his lover's, unable to distance himself. He needed this; he needed to know the void wasn't going to come back. He needed Erik to ground him.

Charles knew he had made a mistake back when the two men had met; a mistake a new telepath might make, a mistake he taught those with mind-powers never to make.

He had chosen one anchor, one strong mind, and he had become attached to it. He had become attached to Erik Lensherr and he couldn't continue without the reassuring pulses of the other mind. It was a deadly mistake, one that might cost him one day. If Erik ever decided to leave…  
>Emotions welled up inside him and Charles pushed them down. No. He wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't ponder the possibilities.<p>

But if Erik ever left, he would leave with a large part of Charles Xavier.

It was a realization that had hit the telepath at the beach and back then it could have crippled him if the other mutant had decided different.

Erik hadn't. He had stayed.

And now he was safely back home.

Sliding into the bed, careful not to jostle the taller man, Charles tried to ignore the doubt and the pain and the fears.

A warm hand, hindered by bandages, slid over his stomach and Erik rolled to bury his face into Charles' chest.

"You think loudly," the semi-awake man complained.

Charles stared at him, then dredged up a smile as the slivers of gray from behind cracked-open eyes regarded him. The pale color hardened, like diamonds, and suddenly the other mutant was very much aware and fixated on his lover.

"My apologies." ::I'm tired, Erik. And you need sleep, too.::

Erik huffed, then murmured something and fell asleep again.

Charles closed his eyes, going through mental relaxation exercises, and finally succumbed to his exhaustion as well. His mind was firmly wrapped around Erik's, never letting go.

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Erik wanted to scream at the suffocating darkness that surrounded his mind. He had thought he'd gotten away, but he was mistaken. He tried to find his way through this nightmare and his body tried to force itself out of its prison. A voice whispered to him, but it couldn't be heard over the panic his mind projected. His body wanted to react by fighting, but he was too weak. His breathing pattern changed; it became rapid. He was beginning to find it hard to get the air he needed into his lungs.

A hand touched his face and he couldn't help but jerk away from it. The voice called his name and telling him that he was going to be fine, that he was here with him now. His mind finally forced the scream to leave his body. His pain-filled form began to fight for real. He couldn't stop it. It was more a reaction than a request. He wanted it to stop but it wouldn't.

Hands gripped his face and held it tight. The voice began to whisper in his mind, but he couldn't calm down; the fear was too great. He struggled even harder. The hands still held his head in a vice-like grip and finally words filtered through.

::Erik... you're safe...::

Charles?

"Open your eyes."

His body went limp and he tried to force his eyes open. It was an effort. The blurry image that greeted him turned into face.

"Charles?" he whispered, his voice rough and weak.

"Yes. You are safe, Erik. Relax. It'll be okay," Charles said softly, blue eyes boring into Erik's blurry ones.

"Charles…" he only whispered, body relaxing completely. It was like someone had injected him with morphine.

The other man smiled. "Yes. Sleep. Everything's okay. You're back."

And he followed the order, unquestioningly.

x x x x x x x x x x

Charles stroked over the sweaty hair, exhaling slowly. He felt the tension leave his own body and he allowed himself to relax. He became aware of someone approaching and when Reaper silently slipped into the room, he gave her a nod.

"Nightmare."

She nodded. The feeding line was still attached and she was pretty much aware of her patient's condition. Charles knew she experienced problems detaching after serious cases and she never detached earlier than necessary. Erik might be back and healing, but the energy she supplied was helping.

"I'm not surprised. He has gone through several shifts and had to endure the portal. The trauma of one shift alone is enough to send a brain into nightmares." She briefly touched his arm in a gesture of support. "Hang in there, Charles."

He gave her a wan smile. There was nothing else to do. Erik was back and that was all that counted. He could deal with the nightmares. He was a telepath; he had a direct line into that mind.

"Good night, Reaper."

"Good night."

And then she was gone again.

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When Raven had discovered the relationship between her brother and one of the most dangerous and powerful mutants she had ever met, she had been scared. Scared for Charles. Her brother was idealistic and sometimes a little too naïve when it came to the ugly reality of this world. But she also knew that being a telepath gave him an advantage no one else had when it came to Erik Lensherr. She also knew that Erik wasn't some cold block of ice, with no emotions and little use for human companionship.

So she watched, concern turning into intrigue. Erik was… good for Charles. He was very good for him. She waited for Lensherr to hurt him, to push him away, but instead they grew ever closer until there was no space left between them.

And then a case had gone wrong. Rift had overreacted and sent Erik into another dimension. Getting him back had been their top priority and Raven had been scared what this was doing to Charles. No one had been able to help the powerful telepath and her brother had deteriorated. Only the hope that Erik was still alive had let him face each day.

"I love him, Raven. I can't say how much. I can't put into words what it means to feel him inside my head."

Yes, she had been scared to lose him then.

But Erik was back. Injured, weak, but he was back.

Almost walking into Reaper she quickly side-stepped.

"They're fine," the other mutant said.

She glanced at the door to her brother's room.

"Nightmares are normal."

Raven hadn't even asked, hadn't even thought about what might have brought Reaper here.

"Thank you for bringing him home."

"There was never any doubt." And then she continued.

Raven snorted. Of course not. She knew how frantic the team had been, how worried the no-nonsense woman had been. Reaper might try to detach herself emotionally when things got dicey in that department, but it didn't mean she was unaffected.

Looking at the closed door, she finally turned and walked away. She would visit them later. Like so many she wanted to see Erik for herself, make sure he was back, that he was okay.

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Twelve hours after crashing so completely, Erik Lensherr woke and felt marginally more like himself. Weaker than he would ever admit to being, shaky and fuzzy around the edges, but he was awake. He was aware of a warmth next to him that he had missed and from the gentle caress, fingers carding into his hair, trailing over his neck and shoulder, Charles was awake, too.

"Hey," the telepath said, voice thick with emotions.

"Hey," he replied. His own voice was heavy, raw.

Charles smiled and the liquid blue of his eyes reflected so much. He leaned down and kissed the messy hair.

"Shower," Erik murmured, feeling sticky in a really bad way. "Please."

It got him a small chuckle.

The shower took more energy than he would have believed possible and while having Charles help would have been erotic any other given day, this time it was pure necessity.

"Stubborn idiot," Charles said softly when Erik had to hold on to his shoulders not to lose his balance. There was concern in his voice that he couldn't hide. There was little he actually could hide from Lensherr; right now or ever.

Erik gave the telepath a small smile. He would have to be blind not to see the worry, the lines around the normally so vibrant blue eyes, and the care. He leaned over and kissed the other man, just a brush of lips against lips, but from the way his mind was flooded with warmth he knew just how badly off Charles was, too.

"Anchoring, hm?" he teased softly.

Charles rested his head against Erik's. "I apologize, my friend."

Erik forced him to look up, not the least bit fooled by the British detachment. "I'm glad to be home, too."

The next kiss was deeper, but it was about all he was capable of anyway.

Charles stood back to let him dress on his own, which was nearly a disaster and he relented to having the other man help, but he walked into the silent study on his own.

"Where are the others?"

Like Raven and Alex and Sean. Or Azazel and Riptide, who had been on and off coming by, teaching or just overseeing training of the older students.

"Classes."

Erik raised an eyebrow and it pulled at his wound.

"They insisted. It distracted everyone."

He held out a hand and Charles took it, letting himself be pulled down beside the other man. Erik moved to rest his injured hand on Charles' stomach and his forehead against one shoulder. They remained like that for a long time, Charles running his fingers through the dark hair, drawing soft, appreciative noises from his lover. Not that Erik would ever confess to making them.

Picking up small things, emotions and images that made not much sense, he finally allowed his mind to sink deeper into Erik's. The other man tensed a little.

"Do you mind?" Charles asked, surprised.

It wasn't uncommon for them. For Charles it was like a mental relaxation exercise to let himself drift with the waves of his anchor. He never went deep, never accessed a memory, just let himself go and not worry about anything. Erik rarely felt the touch enough to react, though he was aware of what his lover was doing. Connecting, feeling the resonance, just being there…

"No," was the soft reply after a moment. "Things… over there, things are quite different."

Charles waited when Erik fell silent.

"Like my worst nightmare."

He raised his eyebrows.

Erik glanced at him, then pushed back to meet the other man's quizzical gaze.

"What did Reaper tell you?"

"Nothing aside from the bare necessities. She told me it was up to you to deliver a full report."

"Some second," Erik muttered, but not unkindly.

He scrubbed his good hand over his face.

"We're enemies in their world, Charles," he finally said. "After The Beach… things went different there. Very different." He stopped again, pain reflecting in his eyes. "My worst nightmares, Charles. I saw my worst nightmares. The bullet… hit you in the back."

Charles reached out and cupped the narrow face with one hand, then met the agonized gray eyes.

"Let me see," he whispered, his mind moving forward.

There was a token resistance as Erik tried to protect him from his own pains and fear, his nightmares and guilt, and from the events in the parallel world.

::Please::

"Charles…"

And then he saw the different outcome, the separation of these two men, as his parallel self pushed the other Erik away verbally. He listened to his parallel self as he explained what had happened, how Erik had become Magneto, now on opposite sides. How Raven had gone with Magneto because Magneto had given her the pride in herself and the respect that Charles had lacked. Charles had loved his sister, but he hadn't understood how to show her that he accepted her just the way she was.

Erik rested his head against Charles' shoulder, trembling slightly. His breath was coming rapidly and he was hanging on to his partner like he was his lifeline. Charles stroked over the short hair at his neck.

"I'd never betray you," Erik said harshly. "Never. You have to believe me."

Charles didn't need to be a telepath to feel the rampaging emotions and he buried his hand in the dark hair. They had managed to set aside their differences, they had found a middle way that, while hard sometimes, worked. Nothing was perfect; they weren't perfect. It worked, though. It worked.

And he loved this man. Dearly. Completely. Just as he was. Erik's emotions when it came to Charles were clear for the telepath, even though Lensherr was sometimes unable to put them into words. But he felt them and they were unconditional.

This had been one reality where things hadn't worked out. Erik had become Magneto and turned his back on Charles Xavier. And Charles had been left wheelchair-bound for life.

He ran a soothing hand over the tense back. "I do."

"Never," Erik repeated fiercely.

He lightly brushed over the hidden scars on Xavier's lower back and Charles picked up the old guilt and blame. He pressed a kiss against one temple, careful of the still healing injury.

_My fault. My fault alone. My guilt_, ran through the powerful mutant's head.

Scars. Because of him. Where there had never been an injury before, he had caused such a devastating wound. Bullets. So easily taking a life. Taking his legs…

Charles caught that thought right in its track. ::No::

"I saw what could have happened…"

"It didn't happen here. There are countless possibilities, Erik. We might never have met. You could have killed yourself trying to stop Shaw in his sub. The CIA might have taken us out. Shaw might have killed us. Maybe I died at the beach with the others as the missiles hit us. You and me…"

Erik inhaled sharply. _Nononono…_

"Countless possibilities. Countless realities. This is ours. Magneto and my parallel self… they are not us. They could never be us."

Because a few words had changed their lives and another fork in the road of realities had opened up.

"I know you'll never betray me, Erik. I know you."

Charles smiled, kissing the dazed looking man. Erik was completely open. His injuries, the trauma of the rift, the violent shifts, and seeing his parallel self in a wheelchair were beating against those carefully constructed walls of control.

"I know you. You're not Magneto."

"And I never will," was the cold promise, some of the old Erik surfacing.

Charles kissed him again, embracing the coolness.. ::And you look silly in red, let alone a cloak::

That had been one image that had held a certain amount of humor.

Erik snorted. "Bad tailoring."

"Hm, you could do better." Another kiss. "Much better." ::You look hot in black::

That got him a snort of laughter. Erik rested his head on Charles' chest, listening to the beat of his lover's heart, to every breath. His eyes closed to the gentle caress over his head.

"I'm not a cat, you know," he murmured.

Charles continued to card his fingers through the silky strands. "I know. I miss the purr."

Erik muttered something, but Charles wasn't deterred. He felt the other mind even out as Erik fell asleep and he closed his eyes not much later, catching up on some much needed sleep.

tbc...  
> <p>


	14. Chapter 14

It was how Raven found them when she snuck into the study to check on her brother and his partner. A smile crossed the young woman's lips and she watched them for a while, taking in the relaxed pose of her brother and the almost possessive hold he had on the wounded man in his arms. Then she closed the door and quickly wrote a note to stick onto it. Nobody would disturb those two or risk her wrath.

"Sleeping," she told Hank when she joined him in the kitchen where he was stacking an incredible amount of hamburgers onto his plate.

"Good," was the reply and he grinned at her as she playfully swiped a hamburger and a bag of chips.

Both went outside, enjoying the calmness that had settled over the school now that Erik was back again. The students had been worried, the staff had been distracted, and their headmaster had been an emotional wreck, even if Charles hadn't tried to let on just how badly he was off.

Raven leaned against McCoy as he devoured the first three hamburgers, marveling again how he could metabolize all of it so well. He didn't gain an ounce of weight. She was glad everything had worked out, even if she was curious about the other world and had a ton of questions should Erik be willing to answer them. Reaper had been close-mouthed as always, Hayes had disappeared, and Blu couldn't talk in his animal form. And since he loved running around on four legs, talking was a challenge. Finding him even more so.

"He'll need a while to heal the damage done by the rift," Hank said as he polished off the bag of chips. "I know Erik's tough, but this was tougher."

"Charles will take care of him."

It got her a grin and she kissed her boyfriend's nose. Hank twitched it. Raven smiled more.

"I know he will. And I know Erik will claim to hate every minute of it while secretly enjoying it. I'm looking forward to the arguments."

McCoy grimaced. Arguments about being fit enough, about going out and looking for mutants again, about taking up exercising. Erik was a runner who made his laps every morning he was at the mansion.

"Because the make-up sex will be even better," Raven added, laughing.

Hank snorted, glad that blushes didn't show on his blue skin. At least not too badly. Raven grinned at him, kissing him. Then she turned to her own food, shooting seductive little looks at her boyfriend now and then. Hank finally turned away with a flustered look.

"You're impossible," he muttered.

"So are you, hon. Just be glad Charles has enough control not to blast his emotions all over the place," she hummed into his pointed ear.

"I'm very thankful for that."

"Not that we need it," Raven continued.

He turned his head and looked into her equally yellow eyes. Blue skin on blue fur.

"You're insatiable, Raven."

"Hm, I know someone else who can very well keep up with me."

Hank turned abruptly, using his agility and strength to have them tumble. She laughed, hugging him tightly. McCoy grinned, showing sharp teeth that didn't frighten her. The next kiss was soft and loving.

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The bandages were a reminder of his weakness, as was the feeding line. Erik told Reaper to remove it three days after they got home and he was coherent enough to be awake for longer stretches of time. Hank had told him to listen to his body, backed up by Charles who had projected 'safe' over and over. Even now, so long after everything that had threatened him was dead and gone, he moved to a program hammered into him with pain and blood and tears. Never show a weakness, never let your guard down, never let the tears come.

Charles respected his distance in those moments, but he refused to leave him completely alone. And Erik listened to his body and let himself rest.

But three days were enough.

Reaper gave him the raised brow.

"I'm not a baby," he argued.

"And this isn't an umbilical cord, Erik. It's a safety measure."

"Call it what you want, it comes off right now!"

Her neutral look rivaled his own expressions sometimes. Reaper was hardly ever impressed by shows of temper. For a future doctor she had a rather bad bedside manner, but her healing capabilities made up for that fault.

"Reaper, now!" he ordered.

"As you wish. It's your breakdown."

Then she carefully removed the line. It didn't hurt, it didn't pull, he felt nothing. A nod was all he thanked her with, then he walked out onto the grounds of the manor, needing air.

It came as no great surprise that Charles followed. Or maybe he had already been here. Erik had no idea. He didn't care one way or the other.

Looking at the other man he simply walked up to him, sitting down beside the telepath. Silently they looked out over the expanse of trees and grass, the manor just barely visible through the dense flora. This silence was something that had struck Erik before. Right after their first meeting. They would sit together, just them, no TV, no radio. Not even a game. They would read or just enjoy each other's company. Sometimes Erik would ask Charles to tell him about his research, his papers, and he would listen to him talk about science and genetics. He understood only a little of what Xavier read, was impressed that this man had written all of those pages, but he enjoyed listening.

And when they had been looking for the mutants Cerebro had found, the silent rides had been just as comfortable. He didn't need to talk. Not because Charles was a telepath, but because there was no need at all.

Erik flexed his fingers, grimacing as the healing cuts pulled and stung. Hank had changed the bandages from near-immobilizing to restricted movement and flexibility, but he still needed to let it heal on its own. His fingers peeked through the whiteness and he wriggled them a little. They had yet to discover a mutant who could heal instantly. Reaper was the best they had in that department.

Charles watched him, the hand, and his face was unreadable. Not completely, but mostly. Erik knew him, had seen him out of focus and just be there in his mind alone. He opened his own mind and felt the brush of Charles' powerful psychic force, something that could easily wipe out a mind or kill a person. This man, whose body was simply human, had a gift that was more powerful than even Erik's. Despite Charles' claims that Lensherr had already surpassed him, Erik didn't believe it.

Blue eyes blinked and focused on him.

Erik smirked. "Deep thoughts?" he teased.

"A lot of thoughts."

"Anything useful?"

Charles laughed softly. "I believe everything is useful."

Something tingled through him and Erik knew the sensation, knew the need and the lust. Looking at Charles, the lust had never changed. He had no idea what it was about this one man that had him so entranced, had pulled him in and kept him there. Charles Xavier was so unlike anyone he had ever met and probably ever would. He doubted it was a telepath thing. He had never been remotely attracted to Emma Frost, who was a stunning woman, no doubt. Insane, cold, but stunning.

No, this was Charles alone.

From the amused look in his partner's eyes. Xavier had picked up on his thoughts.

"You're spying again," he only growled.

"I respect the privacy of the mind, Erik. You know that." A tiny fraction of hurt accompanied the words.

Erik snarled and lithely pushed the other man back onto the ground, settling neatly on his hips.

"The fuck you are. You always touch me."

"You never minded."

"I don't even know what privacy is anymore."

"Erik…"

"You need me," he drove his point home.

Erik leaned closer, catching a shiver and a small sense of arousal. Charles was probably the only one who got off on facing down the predator. Erik knew how to instill fear, he had seen more than one of his one-night stands run off when he had looked at them after the fact, but this man had stayed and still wanted him. Even in the throes of passion, when he lost control of his gift for a fraction, he didn't show anything but love. Appreciation. Need. Pride.

"You need me, Charles," he said roughly. "You need this, don't you?"

The wide blue eyes told him the answer. Charles needed him. To keep him sane, anchored, balanced.

"I don't mind," he rumbled.

Because no one had ever needed him this way. No one had ever seen something peaceful and balancing in him until this man, who claimed he respected privacy and was so firmly lodged in his mind that being alone hurt.

Charles pulled him down, kissing him, letting his body show him what he already knew. Erik pushed back, pent-up emotions clawing at his walls. He wanted this; he wanted Charles.

::I'm here. Always::

His left hand protested the grasp he had on Charles' shoulder, but he ignored it. Erik had been shown what could have been, had seen so much pain in the parallel Charles' eyes, had seen the loss and the need.

::Always::

Pain and loneliness and knowing that he had failed at keeping his best friend with him. The horror of losing the use of one's legs and the knowledge that the future was now just getting worse. Facing Magneto while knowing who he had been. Wanting so much to turn back time…

He felt a sob leave his chest and buried it underneath a harsh kiss.

::Missed you:: Charles whispered. ::Like a black void inside me… growing…::

Erik was thunderstruck for a moment, staring at the liquid blue eyes, taking in everything. Charles had felt his disappearance. It had been almost painful.

::It was painful, Erik. I need you::

Part of him. Erik was part of him. And Erik was humbled and elated and terrified and happy, all in the same moment. He had never given their easy telepathic connection much thought. He had blamed it on Charles' gift, their first meeting, their emotional reactions and later their relationship. He had never thought that this ease had a violent backlash on his lover.

::It's not negative:: Charles told him, picking up on his whirling thoughts. ::It's perfect::

Clothes were in the way and easily removed. Erik felt soft skin, stretching over muscles that moved lithely underneath his fingers.

"I need you," he groaned.

In so many ways. More than just a physical way. He needed him to be… to stay human, to be more than what Shaw had intended him to be. Charles gave him humanity and emotions, he gave him something to hold on to, a reason to continue a life that had lost its purpose after Shaw's death.

::You have me, Erik. I'm not letting go. I'll always be by your side::

He held that heated blue gaze, knew the truth in the statement. This was their world, their reality, and it was their future to shape. He would never be Magneto, he would never turn against Charles.

"I'll always be by yours," he vowed.

Charles framed his face, then kissed him. If there had ever been any doubt about his loyalty, the visit to a parallel reality had erased it.

::Love you::

He echoed those words, fiercely. The rest was drowned in a sea of need and love and lust.

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School went back to normal. The students gave him happy smiles, some expressing their relief that Erik was back. He even got a neutral nod and a clap onto the shoulder from Azazel before the red-skinned mutant left for wherever he always went. Riptide had given him a half-smile, as always barely speaking a word when not with some students.

When he was finally rid of the bandages and had regained use of his hand through rigorous physical therapy, Erik finally decided it was time. He needed to get back into business.

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Erik checked and rechecked his gear, then proceeded to strip off his clothes to change into his flight suit. While the Black Bird was as safe, maybe even a lot safer, than a commercial plane, Hank insisted that they wore the suits. Black and yellow, Hayes had once complained that she looked like a bumblebee on steroids. Not that it had led to Hank changing the colors.

Movement caught his eye and he gave Charles a one-sided smile when the telepath walked into the room. Erik shot his lover a quizzical look when the other man just leaned against the wall, looking at him. Looking intensely at him, blue eyes running over his mostly undressed partner, lingering on the slender form longer than was strictly necessary.

"See something you like?" Erik purred.

They still had time till the launch. He was always early.

Charles' expression was shadowed, almost predatory. He rarely became this intense and the last few weeks at home had been very intense indeed. Healing, regaining his strength, training, and Charles. Erik knew that their separation had been hard, that Xavier hadn't known if he was still alive, but he only had an inkling what it had meant on a psychic level for his lover. He couldn't really, truly grasp the depth of those powers, the consequences of what Charles was doing sometimes. He only saw the outcome, the good and the bad and the really nasty.

::You mean everything, Erik:: was the honest answer.

They looked at each other from a distance, then Charles approached, each step measured.

::You don't have to go. Let Reaper handle this::

"I can't keep hiding, Charles."

::You're not::

It was eerie to hear the voice and see no lip movement. Erik felt the pressure on his mind, the anchor stronger than before. The anchor had never been removed. Charles had recovered from the abuse of his gift, but he hadn't removed what bound them together. Erik suspected it would be difficult anyway.

::Painful:: Charles whispered.

"You're spying," Lensherr murmured, reaching out and pulling the slightly smaller man close. "And I'll be fine. Reaper, Hayes and Blu are sticking to me like glue. It'll be hard to breathe with them around. We'll fly to Kenya, find the kid and come home."

::I want to come with you::

"Clingy doesn't suit you."

Annoyance flooded the youngish face, eyes flaring with anger. "I'm not clingy!"

Erik leaned forward, capturing the telepath's lips. "Hm, but you are," he murmured. "Very. I love you, Charles. I won't do anything foolish. This is just a simple case of flying to Africa, find a girl who can control the weather, offer her a place here and come home."

"Cameron Creek was a simple case, too."

And the boy had nearly managed to kill Erik by shoving him into a dimension that hadn't wanted him.

"You gonna hold that against me until eternity?"

"Most likely."

"If that's all you got, Professor, you need to come up with a better argument."

Charles slid his hands over the firm planes so enticingly close. Erik suppressed a groan.

"I'm coming with you," he repeated. "Reaper already told me she needs some time off. As does the rest of your team."

_Traitors! _

"Reaper has exams coming up."

_Treacherous, mutinous traitors!_ He knew Reaper aced whatever was thrown at her in those medical exams.

"Hayes claims she has vacation days, too."

_Right! As if! _

"And Blu told me to get this out of my system." Charles grinned.

Erik growled softly. "Who's gonna fly? Or do you want to go commercial?"

Charles gave him a raised eyebrow. "I know you can handle the Black Bird. You pestered Hank enough to teach you."

He pulled him close. "Just you and me then? Like old times?"

And part of him, his own treacherous part, happily announced it approved. Like old times. He had actually missed the recruiting trips.

"Yes," Charles murmured into the crook of Erik's neck.

"We'll never get out of that hotel bed."

It got him a snort of laughter and Charles shot him a mischievous look. "Like old times?"

Erik laughed warmly. Back then, in the beginning of their friendship, sharing beds had been platonic. Back then he hadn't figured out his emotions and his needs.

"You're a bad, bad influence, Charles Francis Xavier."

"I had the best of teachers."

"Looks like it." Erik stepped back, sizing him up. "Strip."

"Pardon?" ::Erik, really. Here?::

He grabbed a flight suit and tossed it at the other man. "Strip, grab your gear, we're leaving in five. And get your mind out of the gutter."

::But the gutter is your wonderful brain, my friend::

Charles looked like a kid about to take part in an amusement ride, eyes alight, smiling widely, and Erik couldn't but feel the deep affection that had been there from the start once more. Affection that had turned to respect, which was now an unconditional love.

He was ready in five, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. Erik shook his head and gave him a friendly shove into the Black Bird.

"Strap in. It's gonna be a long flight."

When he taxied the plane into position he caught sight of Reaper. He refused to be baited by her smug look, but he would give her an earful about manipulative moves and traitors later.

::She loves you, Erik. She wants the best for you. Me::

::Arrogant little bastard, aren't you?:: he sent back.

::I know a good thing when I see it::

There it was again, the warmth. Something he cherished and now even more so. Other realities had differed from this one, had taken this man away from him through his own fault. He had seen the pain and regret in the parallel Charles. He suspected his own parallel self was just as torn if Magneto had only an inkling as to what he had thrown away.

Erik prepared for take-off, then took off in a perfect maneuver. He might have opened the throttle a little too much, judging by Charles' surprised gasp.

::Ass::

And he laughed, winking at his lover.

Then they were on their way to Kenya.

x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x

He came in the middle of the night. It had been years since he had set foot into this place, but it felt like he had never been gone. Somehow he wasn't surprised to find the object of his visit sitting in the dark study, looking at him from knowing blue eyes.

Magneto met those eyes, face blank. He knew Charles couldn't read him because he was still wearing the helmet, but somehow Xavier seemed to know.

"You had a visitor."

Charles was silent.

Looking at him, seeing him in this chair, let something violent surge through Magneto. He knew he had been the cause and he had torn himself apart over it again and again. Nothing could be changed unless someone came up with a new development in the field of medicine or bio-technology. If McCoy hadn't so far, no one else had.

"Found him enlightening?" he now teased.

"In a way." Charles steered the wheelchair closer. "Why have you come?"

"I was curious."

"About your parallel self?"

"About many things."

Charles sighed and pinched his nose. Now, in the light of the study lamp, Magneto saw how pale and worn he looked. Little sleep, too much worry, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Another surge rose, this time of a different emotion.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Erik."

The cape moved gently at his back as he closed the distance, looking at the man who had once been his best friend. Now… now he was someone Erik Lensherr regretted leaving. But their differences had been inconsolable. They hadn't faced each other across a battlefield ever since, but there had been more differences pushing them apart until Erik believed that nothing could ever bridge the gap.

"You're such a naïve fool, Charles. So idealistic and misguided in your belief that humanity will ever accept us."

"And your ways are so much better? Fear and pain and threats? How can you promote a world where another race lives in fear?"

Erik felt the old tension, the old anger, come back, but he refused to be baited. They had had these arguments before, long-distance, neither about to give in.

"I admit to being wrong sometimes," Charles went on, looking away, eyes drawn to the darkness outside. "I admit that I might have ignored issues in favor of my dream of a peaceful co-existence."

Magneto smirked.

"I won't condone instilling fear and killing humans just because we have a genetic mutation and they don't. Evolution is a slow process. Who is to say that the mutants are the ones who are born to rule?"

The age-old argument, the just as old plea to reconcile their differences. He looked at the tired man, his old friend, tried to overlook the damage done. Charles was no longer blinded by his high-held ideals, but he also wasn't a ruthless conqueror. Erik, who had lived through one genocide, knew that his ways, while cruel, would never reflect those of other madmen.

"How did they solve their problems?" he asked neutrally.

It got him a little laugh, the blue eyes suddenly warm and inviting. "Do you have time for a cup of tea, old friend?"

The gentle words caught him off guard and he briefly scanned the room. No one was there. He felt a dozen metallic weapons at his disposal, but no threat. His tension lessened a little more.

"It will take me a while to explain their reality," Charles added.

Magneto flicked his wrist and the door locked. "I'm all ears."

x x x x x x x x

When he left again, Charles watched until the slender figure had disappeared in the murky light of a coming dawn. His lips were warm from the kiss, his body tingling, and something inside of him shivered.

Just one moment.

Maybe a new beginning.

x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x x x x x x x

Six months after the visitors from a parallel reality a auburn-colored dog trotted up the steps to the gigantic manor in Westchester. He was carrying a satchel and easily jumped the banister to slip through an open terrace door.

Charles looked up from what he had been reading. Five minutes later the door handle was pushed down and the dog was there, looking at him from intelligent hazel eyes.

The satchel was dropped and the dog sat down.

It was wearing a collar that was hardly there to restrain him. It was a rift device.

"Blu," Charles greeted him.

It got him a little huffing noise.

He steered the wheelchair over to the satchel and Blu picked it up once more, placing it into his lap. Charles looked inside.

It was a data drive.

With a letter.

'Maybe your McCoy can decipher what our genius blue guy is trying to tell you,' was written. 'Looks like he has an idea how to help you. And maybe my parallel self. Look at it as my only way to thank you. Have fun. Erik.'

Charles blinked. He caught the tail of Blu slipping out the door and then saw the shape-shifter bound across the lawn and toward the woods.

x x x x x x x x

An hour later Hank was gaping at what the hard drive contained.

"Cybernetics, Professor," he whispered, awe-struck. "An organic-mechanic interface. I've been looking into it myself, but it never worked. This is about genetically coded organic cells… your cells, infused with tiny nanites. If this works…"

Charles felt his heart constrict. He looked at the screen. If it worked… He didn't dare to hope. Tears swam in his eyes.

_Thank you, Erik_, he thought.

Maybe one day he would have the chance to say it in person.

fin!

More stories in this alternate 'verse coming soon.  
> <p>


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